Split
by OogieBoogie
Summary: Hermione Granger by day, Something Else by night - IF she forgets to take her meds (or in this case, fail to work). She works at Gringotts by day and becomes some sort of vigilante at night - stealing from the wealthy and giving it to the poor. That's until her alter ego steals from Draco Malfoy, meets him, and decides she likes him.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So yeah … this happened. *confused*. This literally came out of nowhere.

Anyway, Christmas is in 28 days, so there's that! Enjoy!

* * *

><p>She was on the bathroom floor.<p>

There was an onslaught of a sharp, throbbing pain throughout her cranium, and as she raised her both her hands to clutch the back of her head, she saw red.

_Fuck, shit, wank and cunt._

Was that blood?

"Oh, no," she bemoaned, headache suddenly gone as she whipped from her supine position on the floor at a dizzying speed to run to the sink, clutching it tightly. There, in the sink, were blood stains as well. No, no, no, no, no – what the fuck happened and who did she kill?!

She gazed at herself woefully for about three seconds before she gawked.

Her hair was red.

Not Weasley red – but intense, flaming _red_ red.

When did she dye her hair?

She dived into the rubbish bin below the sink and procured a box. Apparently, her _other half _had ventured into a Muggle store during her nightly shenanigans.

Tossing the box of L'oreal Intense Spicy Red dye back into the bin, she sat on the toilet bowl and drummed her fingers against her temples, trying to recall exactly what the fuck happened as last night's events transpired in her mind's eye.

Ah, yes. There was that promotion. Vice President of Loan Operations at Gringotts. Her coworkers celebrated her success, surprising her with a cake – Black Forest – and then … and then there was _another _celebration, this time at the pub – and she missed the 7pm mark to take her meds. She was so hammered to even remember or care. Oops.

And so, due to that, her meds lay forgotten, somewhere in her handbag.

Now where did _she_ go after the change? She remembered changing into an all-black ensemble, putting a smudge of kohl around her eyes (tastefully of course), and slipped on the boots that she never wore because at the time, it didn't seem like her. Then, she Apparated straight to Pearson's warehouse.

_Pearson looked up from his writing at the desk as she materialized in front of him. Pulling the pipe away from his bearded mouth, he offered a smug grin so obvious even in the darkness of the dingy warehouse. He coughed dryly before relaxing into his chair; Hermione studied the man before her. He had dark hair, an unruly mop of hair not unlike Harry's, dark, thick beard moustache and beard to match with beetle eyes, only marred by laugh lines._

"_Ah, Granger. Long time no see. I was beginning to think you put the illegal bounty days behind you," he said in a raspy voice. _

_Hermione tossed her coat and bag full of paraphernalia audaciously onto the floor before dragging a chair in front of Pearson's desk with her shiny, leather, pointed boot._

"_Been busy," she said dismissively, actively chewing a gum. Pearson watched her cheekily her for a moment._

"_I can see that – I see you during the day at the bank, madam. Thereafter you seem like a totally different person. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were bipolar,"_ _Pearson said nonchalantly as he rummaged through the mess of papers on his desk._

"_It's called schizophrenia. Or Dissociative Identity Disorder," Hermione answered exasperatedly and started tapping her feet impatiently. "Let's skip the small talk, Pearson, and tell me what I need to do – or rather, who to find." _

_Just then, the entrance to the warehouse slid open noisily and in walked someone, "Ah, hey, Pearson. I was just about to pick up – ah, hello Granger."_

_Hermione looked at the intruder, who then stepped into the light. Sandy brown hair, also clad in all-black, and he was looking at Hermione with such polite disdain._

_Hermione hummed her greetings and barely glanced at him, rolled her eyes back to Pearson as she changed her sitting position to that of a man. _

"_Smith," Pearson sighed heavily, "No need for you. Granger is here."_

"_I can see that, but you said I have another bounty left for the day," Smith said, fingering his black hat and shooting a half-glare at Hermione who was busy examining her nails while chewing gum._

"_And she will take it," Pearson answered, peering at some of the documents in front of him._

"_No, Pearson, really I don't mind, I -"_

"_Go home, Smith. You've done enough. You must be tired," Pearson cut him off edgily._

_Smith opened his mouth to argue, but Pearson pinned him with eyes that left nothing more to be said, and Smith disappeared with a 'pop'._

"_Why do you treat him like that?" Hermione asked, smiling a little. _

"_Because you're our best, and you know it."_

"_Ah, yes," Hermione grinned and stretched languorously like a cat, "I know."_

"_So this is your man for the night," Pearson threw a document and she caught it firmly with one hand before flicking it open. _

"_Dead or alive?" Hermione asked as she tried to memorize the face of the man. Pearson raised an eyebrow at that and she winked, "Kidding."_

Hermione snapped her eyes open and rushed into her bedroom. A large sack of Galleons lay on top of her bed, which proved that she did, indeed, find her man and collected her reward from Pearson after. What made her frown, however, was not that it was untouched (knowing the other Hermione), but the other sacks of overflowing Galleons that were scattered throughout her bedroom. There must be ten thousand Galleons, at least.

Fuck, what else did _she _do last night?

So money-starved was her other half, that whenever Hermione forgot to take her meds, she would find herself literally drowning in Galleons the next morning or with nice clothes, purses and shoes (something day Hermione would not even consider wearing). It was quite a nice perk, this other personality, with the only detriment being that she had no idea where she got the money from, or from whom did she steal. What was worse was that she could have hurt or killed someone for that money.

_Aww, I'm not that bad. You need to trust me, pet, _her own voice told her, but it wasn't intentional. It was very foreign the first few times, but she was now used to it. The other her was talking to her. _I wish you wouldn't try to control me sometimes. Imagine what I could do if you didn't. Something like last night should happen more often._

Hermione rolled her eyes and rubbed her chin. Where the hell did she get this money from?

* * *

><p>"Mr Malfoy, we assure you that Gringotts has the most advanced security in the whole Wizarding world, and we are as stupefied to find out that somebody has broken into your vault and robbed you," a representative from Gringotts said hastily, making apologetic expressions at a group of armed wizards and goblins alike, with people from the press scribbling on their notepads furiously as cameras flashed at a high speed.<p>

Hermione slowed her walk towards her office as everyone's focus was on the commotion outside the Head of Gringott's office.

Someone from the crowd stepped out, and Hermione would recognize that platinum hair anywhere on the street.

"Well then," an aristocratic, silky voice came out of Malfoy's mouth, "I should be lucky that the person only stole twenty thousand Galleons, instead of the whole thing."

The representative winced visibly, and looked unsure as to whether he should laugh along with the press or keep his face contrite.

"I am not saying that I am willing to condone this kind of incident, but do look into it, Mr Pierce. My family has invested in your bank for many a century, and I hate to be the one to finally leave," Malfoy said in a cool, collected and trained voice.

Hermione almost nodded her head and pulled her mouth down in an impressed manner, but she had just realized that her bank would now be getting bad publicity. Malfoy was mercifully calm about it (of course he was, what's twenty thousand to him?), and that had given Hermione a chance to examine him without his snotty, twatty behaviour from school. He had grown up quite nicely, he had that regal air that his father had, but it was more … muted. He was assured, of course, and low-key confidence looked good on Malfoy instead of the swaggering, domineering personality he had in Hogwarts.

After much deliberation, Hermione decided that she liked the new look and person. She shrugged and walked to her new Vice President office with a self-satisfied smile, asking her new secretary (Hilary) for a cup of tea before throwing herself at her new oak desk.

"Miss Granger, your tea," Hilary said, levitating a tray filled with a teapot, a cup and a couple of chocolate biscuits into Hermione's office.

"Ah, thank you, Hilary," she smiled sweetly and grabbed a biscuit before the tray was set fully on the desk.

"Today's paper," Hilary offered her day's edition of _The Daily Prophet_.

"Yes, please," she answered, "Malfoy would be on the front page, no doubt."

Hilary laughed a little and said, "Not that we ladies would mind that."

"What do you mean? It's bad for our bank, though," Hermione said, grabbing another biscuit as she unfolded the paper.

"Yeah but … Mr Malfoy, he's … well fit," Hilary giggled some more and Hermione frowned at that. Hilary immediately cleared her throat and left the office in a hurry.

Hermione shrugged again and peered down at the first page of the Prophet. She was right, Malfoy was on the front page. Snapped right in front of Gringotts, the photograph showed Malfoy marching up the stairs towards the bank entrance, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets as he was hounded by the press and crowd. His face was dispassionate, grey eyes set on the entrance as he rushed to inspect his vault and loss.

_**BREAK-IN AT GRINGOTTS: 20, 000 GONE FROM MALFOY HEIR VAULT**_

She didn't bother reading through the piece, opting to flip straight to the comics section. As she smiled through the entire comic section, she decided to revisit the front page again, now curious as to what Malfoy had to say about the whole thing. Also, she was curious about what Malfoy was up to these days. She was aware that he still remained rich, and he had an empire of some sort. Still …

Before she got to the first page, however, the third page caught her eye. The second page was filled with namby-pamby nonsense about politics and the Ministry, and it made the third page _really _stand out. It was filled with toothless, disheveled and homeless men and women smiling with glee, showing off their boxes of Galleons. Hermione raised the newspaper and read.

**GUARDIAN ANGEL OF GALLEONS **

_**KNOCKTURN ALLEY – It seemed to be raining money last night, and we all missed it. Fortunately for the people in Knockturn Alley, however, it seemed as though their luck had taken a turn for the better. Around 2am, a shower of approximately 10, 000 Galleons had occurred. **_

"_**It happened out of nowhere. I was just here, minding my own business when something hard hit my head. I thought those nasty kids had thrown a stone at me – they tend to do that you know – but as I looked around, more and more started hitting me. And then I looked down, I noticed that it was a Galleon! And more of them were raining down on us, I rushed to grab my box and … well, you won't see me on the streets anymore!" said a gleeful Mr Engelbert (pic).**_

_**Regarding the mystery surrounding this incident, some claim that there is indeed, a Wizarding God, but for some, they firmly believe that they saw someone on the rooftop, giving away these Galleons and that this shower of Galleons wasn't a miracle, but a donation. **_

"_**Whoever it was, I would like to thank them," said a sobbing mother of two, Helena Grace. "This will change the lives of my children, to get them a proper education was my husband's last wish before he died and … thank Merlin that now I am able to give that. Thank you, whoever you are. Thank you ever so much."**_

_**Investigations are being carried out -**_

Hermione dropped the paper as well as her jaw.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense.

Suddenly, she had flashbacks and she seemingly heard a cheeky cackle at the back of her head.

She had fucking robbed Draco fucking Malfoy, kept half for herself and showered the rest at the homeless in Knockturn Alley. The nerve! It wasn't even her own money! She read the last lines of the Prophet once more.

_**Perhaps, in this day and age, a Robin Hood exists?**_

What?! She was a Robin Hood now?! Stealing from the rich and giving it to the poor with the only exception being that she took half of the profit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She flipped to the front cover again, stared at Draco Malfoy's face, and swallowed heavily. Shit. Double shit. She needed to be more careful now, especially with her meds.

Having kept that in mind, she dropped by St. Mungo's after work that evening and spoke to a Healer about her DPD. Hermione asked for a stronger dosage, one that would require longer hours between consumption and something that would … literally control the shit out of _her. _Her Healer agreed, and gave her two vials – one arsenic and the other a deep taupe. She was to take it before bedtime.

* * *

><p>Naturally, it didn't work because the <em>other<em> Hermione woke up in the middle of the night. She took another shower (in spite of the fact that Hermione always showers before bed), got out and applied kohl on her eyes and a deep red lipstick. She also fashioned her hair in a tight, straight ponytail and dressed in another all-black ensemble that consisted of a black turtleneck, black skinny trousers and combat boots.

And then she Apparated to Pearson's.

"Back so soon, Granger?" Pearson asked, not looking up from his writing.

"Need the money," Hermione said saucily. That was a lie. She needed _extra_ money even when she _had _extra money.

"I thought your job at the bank pays you well."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Look, are you going to give me a job or not? Because if you aren't, I'm going to just find something else to do, like maybe sell you out to the Aurors."

"Ah, ah, ah," Pearson looked up and pointed his finger at Hermione, "You're forgetting that a group of Aurors are paying us to do this job."

"Sure, but if I do sell you out with concrete evidence, they will throw you in jail for illegal activities and well, publicity. They'll probably make up some weird criminal act for you as an excuse to capture you. They wouldn't want to seem like they're not doing their jobs, would they?"

"True, but nothing else pays you as fast as this, and as big as this," Pearson looked back at his writing and grinned.

Hermione sighed.

"You see, I know exactly why you stay," Pearson finally threw his pen on the desk and sat back. "I have an assignment, but I'm not entirely sure if it's your cup of tea. I'm considering Smith for the job, since he's willing to do anything."

"Tell me," Hermione said firmly and summoned an apple from Pearson's desk before biting into it greedily. Hmm those two weird potions the other Hermione took made her feel awfully hungry. Very crabby and very hungry.

"It's a robbery assignment. I need you to steal something. A client has just come in not too long ago saying that he needed a piece of expensive painting for his own private, confidential collection," he took out a picture from a folder and held it up for Hermione to inspect.

"_What?_" Hermione grimaced while chewing, "What kind of painting is this? This looks like baby's vomit."

It was just a green mess of putrid ... something.

"It's worth hundreds of millions."

"Why?" Hermione asked again, face still contorted in confusion.

"Because it's art."

Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed the picture back onto Pearson's desk.

"And why do you think it's not my cup of tea?"

"Because you hunt, that's what you do. That's why you're a bounty hunter. I don't think you'd prefer sneaking into someone's house, stealing their shit and smuggling it out. Do you even have the experience?"

"Stealing? Yes," Hermione grinned like a cat.

Pearson looked at her from the corner of his eyes. "I won't ask."

"So can I take it?" Hermione flicked her wand at her apple stalk and it disappeared.

"You're willing to do it?"

"Of course."

"You're crazy. I love it," he laughed and handed her a piece of paper, "Here's the map. The mansion is in Wiltshire."

* * *

><p>It was fairly easy breaking into said mansion, what with Hermione's expertise with spells. There were many barriers and wards, knowing these rich wizards and their expensive properties, but Hermione made sure to disable them without causing any alarm or change in the barriers.<p>

Apart from that, Hermione loved the way the mansion looked from the outside. It looked pure, clean and very beautiful. The insides however, she found, were a little drab if not empty. It looked as if the owner was in the middle of renovating, as there was hardly any furniture or portraits hung on the walls. That made Hermione's task a little harder, as a painting that big was not to be found in the hallways at all.

She cast a spell to reveal any other being around, and it was only a cat on the second floor and a single person on the top floor. Sleeping soundly, apparently. There was nobody else, and Hermione reckoned that this was probably an old man or lady in a huge mansion.

Hermione took her time, almost waltzing to the tune that was blasting through her earphones that was connected to her enchanted iPod. She was careful enough to cast a Silencing charm around herself, lest she drop something in her excitement or during her dance. And, she had a mask on that covered her face, save for her eyes and mouth.

By the time she scouted the entire mansion, she was tired and she could not find the painting at all. Shame on her for being too overconfident about finding the painting in less than ten minutes.

But the house did look really empty. As if the person just moved in, or really, renovated. If she was right, then the painting might not even be here yet. What if she or he had transferred the painting somewhere else for safekeeping while she or he settled down? Oh dear, what a waste of bloody time.

She huffed and rested her hands on her waist, looking around from the massive foyer to find no sign of the vomit-painting whatsoever. She took out the photograph from her bag and stared at it again, thinking that she could get one of her friend's children to draw on a piece of canvas and it would look better than this.

_It might be in the basement, _her own voice echoed in her mind, only sweeter and less gruff than the current Hermione.

Shrugging, she picked up her bag and took a chance, deciding to look for the basement instead. She came this far, might as well check.

Casting a dim light from her wand, she found a doorless entryway to a large, dank room filled with boxes. After realizing that this must be where the owner kept most of their possessions and furniture (since there was an armchair in there), she prided herself on being right about the renovation thing. She looked at the boxes, even though the painting was much too big to be fitted in a box, but she was merely curious.

Still no portraits, it seems, just various busts of some creepy-looking men and smaller, tasteful landscape paintings. Something else had caught her attention, which were the boxes upon boxes of wine. It called out to her like a long-lost lover, and she couldn't resist. And as she made her way to the love of her life, she saw it.

There, that ghastly thing. Against the wall, wrapped in protective packaging and everything. The shade of toxic green stood out like it was made of glow-in-the-dark substance, and even face to face, Hermione grimaced. How ugly.

Casting another protective spell around it, she cast a resizing spell around the painting and watched as it got smaller and smaller, until she could pick it up with her fingers.

"Ugh," she said, and put it in another delicate bag. "Hundreds of millions, eh."

With that, she picked up her bag and Disapparated.

* * *

><p>"Granger! That was <em>fast<em>!" Pearson exclaimed as she returned to the warehouse, as Hermione handed the small coin bag to him.

"Wow! You truly are the best!" Pearson clapped and glanced at Smith, "See, Smith! Less than five hours!"

Smith said nothing and walked out, and Hermione smiled gleefully.

"Well, you can come and collect your reward tomorrow, after our client comes to claim the painting."

Hermione nodded and grabbed her bag once more, ready to Apparate.

"Going to bed?" Pearson asked.

"Nah, going to meet the love of my life."

"Ah, all the best," Pearson winked.

Hermione raised a brow and Apparated.

It wasn't the most genius thing to do, she realized, but this was the _other_ Hermione so she was a bit more reckless and impulsive.

She knew she shouldn't have, but she couldn't resist.

She returned to the mansion's basement to gaze upon the wine collection again. She really was something – stealing money, and then paintings and now wine –

Rummaging through different sorts of antique wine bottles, she picked out the best 5 … _Torres, Casillero del Diablo,_ Château Latour, Tignanello and Penfolds. Just as she was about to take five more, she heard a creak, and somebody's magical signature approaching fast.

She stood up immediately, pulled her mask over her face and tried to pack up everything all at once but alas, she was too late.

Instinctively, she cast a Stunning spell at the entryway, only to have it deflected. Within seconds, they were dueling, and her precious wine bottles were being smashed into pieces.

The lights were suddenly on, and Hermione gaped.

"Draco Malfoy?"

He was there, armed with his wand, in a hooded burgundy silk dressing gown. His hair was disheveled and he still looked …

"Do I know you?" Malfoy asked, taking a couple of steps down. "I thought I felt something was off about my wards."

"You were right. This was my second time here and unfortunately, I've stolen something already," Hermione answered glibly.

"And what did you steal?" he asked, and although his wand was trained on her, his eyes scanned the room.

"Your big old ugly vomit painting," Hermione said.

"Ah, that, priceless."

"Yes."

"And you were successful, why did you come back?" Malfoy raised a fine eyebrow.

"I wanted some wine," Hermione answered truthfully, seeing from the corner of her eyes that they were already gone. "You don't seem sad that your painting was stolen."

"I hated that painting. It was my father's," Malfoy merely tucked his wand back into his pocket and turned around. It seemed as if he was leaving.

"Where are you going, pretty boy?" Hermione asked in a lowered voice.  
>"To bed."<p>

"Without me?" Hermione asked coquettishly.

Malfoy turned around and raised another eyebrow.

"Do I know you, really?"

Hermione, now daring, tucked her wand back in her pocket and stalked towards Malfoy, who didn't even move a muscle. He was cool, calm, collected.

They were face to face now, and Malfoy was not even in the least bit intimidated. He seemed a little surprised and confused at the same time.

And then, Hermione began caressing the collar of his dressing gown. His eyes followed the movement before frowning slightly at her masked face.

"You do know me, but … I suggest that we get to know each other a little better. What do you think?" Hermione smiled mysteriously, knowing that her red lipstick was on show.

"I don't think so. First of all, you stole from me. You're also wearing a mask. You might be ugly. I don't date ugly," he said matter-of-factly.

"Ouch. That's not a very nice thing to say, Malfoy," she laughed.

"Who are you?"

"Whoever you want me to be," Hermione said, and by now she was already inching towards his neck. "It seemed as if it was fate that we ran into each other again, Malfoy."

"Again? When and where did I run into you previously?"

"Does it matter?"

Malfoy sighed and pulled his robe away from Hermione's clutches.

"Look, you're boring me. If we're going to continue like this, I might as well go back to bed. You can talk here, by yourself. And you can let yourself out when you're done," Malfoy said dismissively and turned around once more.

Something within Hermione stirred and it was some sort of feral passion. It was probably lust because she bit her lip as she watched Malfoy's retreating back and she whispered, "Grrrr, I like this one."

Having whispered that and proclaimed her newfound, uncontained lust for Malfoy, she marched towards him, grabbed him by the robes and kissed him with utmost fervour, knocking their noses and teeth along the way – and she suspected that she had accidentally crushed Malfoy's head against the wall because she heard a passionate 'Ooomph!' that may or may not have been caused by the kiss.

"Mmm, I like you Draco Malfoy," she said, wiping red lipstick off Malfoy's bruised lips.

"Oranges," Malfoy said after two seconds.

"Huh?"

Did he knock his head that hard? He seemed to have that dazed and unfocused look on his face (again, may or may not be caused by the kiss), and Hermione decided to leave it at that.

"'Till next time, bye bye handsome!" Hermione blew him another kiss, summoned her bag and Disapparated.

* * *

><p>The next day, Hermione smashed both the vials she acquired from the Healer at St. Mungo's.<p>

**TBC!**

**Read and review!**


	2. Chapter 2

She had no recollection whatsoever of the night before. Although, judging from the amount of Galleons that were strewn all over the floor and her black suit that suspiciously smelled like wine around the leg section gave it all away – _she _definitely had the time of her life last night. Her hair was also unusually straight when she woke up, something the other one liked to do. It was pin-straight and so very red. The red hair she could accept, as she thought it went well with her curls but the straight hair was … well, not her, obviously.

Her head was pounding once more, it felt as if someone was knocking her head with a hammer and she began to sense a pattern of hangovers and money whenever she switched to the other her. As she looked around for her hangover potion, she saw something on the bedside table and her heart instantly warmed.

There was a glass of dark liquid with a note attached to it, written in messy print style – completely the opposite of Hermione's usual gentle and seamless cursive writing.

She reached out and tore the note off the glass and read:

_I prepared this for the morning, just in case. Lots of love._

Smiling a little, she grabbed the glass and lifted it to her lips. Maybe her other self wasn't bad, sometimes. She could be thoughtful, careful if she wanted to –

And then Hermione coughed violently, almost spitting the liquid out at the surprisingly burning sensation that took over her throat, nose and chest.

She glared at the glass and gripped it with a strength that made her hands shake, she swore under her breath.

It was fucking Firewhiskey.

The other Hermione was such an asshole. She could imagine her other self cackling evilly, and it was easy to do so – just plaster on a twisted, sadistic smile and a dark chuckle on Hermione, something completely unlike the normal Hermione who laughed airily and whose eyes crinkled instead of widening with malicious glee.

Stomping out of bed, she found the real hangover potion and downed it in one go. Headache gone, she jumped into the shower and washed off some unfamiliar, masculine cologne that was teasing her nostrils ever since she woke up and prayed to Merlin that the other her had not done anything naughty with some strange man the night before. Oh, dear. That woman needed to be controlled; otherwise she would ceaselessly worry herself to death every morning when she wakes.

That was it. Another trip to the Healer. Clearly her strong dosage was not quite strong enough.

* * *

><p>The extra extra strong dosage seemed to work, as Hermione had a quiet weekend – waking up with no suspicious amount of Galleons and a hangover and most certainly not a wine-drenched outfit. No mystifying, attractive cologne, as well.<p>

She walked into Gringotts the following Monday with an extra bounce in her step and her fiery red curls. Swinging her bag in her right hand, she hummed a tuneless song and made a turn towards the lift. She spotted one closing with a person inside it and she called out, "Oh, hello! Hold it for me, please!"

The person obliged, a gloved hand reaching out to stop the doors from shutting.

She sped into the lift and managed to get in just as the door shut once more.

"Thank you very much," she said, straightening her coat and looked up at the person who was so kind as to – "Draco Malfoy?"

He nodded slightly and tapped his black dapper hat, one that somehow didn't make him look silly like the other wizards but gave him a classy, proper finish that went alone with his black trench coat. He reminded Hermione of those detectives in Muggle movies and she quite liked it.

Her heart skipped for no reason, and she was a hundred percent sure it wasn't out of excitement or nervousness. It was dread – although she couldn't place why she was dreading this.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Never better," he offered a half-smile as he glanced at her and then back at the blinking numbers on the lift, "Considering I've been robbed twice in two weeks, I'm feeling really grand."

She visibly winced at that, she knew she was responsible for the first one and she hoped to Merlin that he didn't notice her sudden stiffness.

"Twice? What happened?" she blurt, and immediately regretted it, "No, I'm sorry. I'm being nosey."

"When were you ever not?" he said, but there wasn't any malice in his tone – it was more reminiscent if anything, and then continued, "My house was broken into just last week. One of my dad's prized paintings was stolen."

"Oh, shame, I'm sorry," Hermione said, mustering a face full of contrition. "You must be devastated."

"On the contrary, no," he shrugged, "I hated that painting."

For the briefest moment, there was a flashback of Malfoy saying the exact thing.

"Yeah you said that," she blurt out of nowhere. Funny, she seemed to recall …

"Did I?" Malfoy turned towards her and slightly arched an eyebrow.

Hermione felt herself turn cold at a sudden realization that he did not say that before and had not even spoken to her before today and –

She swallowed. Fuck. It wasn't her that had that conversation with Malfoy. Well, it was her but … you know, the other her. Crap, crap. Bitch sticks and cunt biscuits. She did rob Malfoy for the second time – that's why she got that reward money from Pearson.

"I meant your expression said it all," Hermione smiled and waved her hand flippantly, hoping that Malfoy would just drop the issue.

Mercifully, he did and they both continued their journey underground in silence. Silence that was broken by Draco Malfoy, surprisingly.

"Is red hair the current trend these days?" hebegan. "Or are you just really excited about becoming a Weasley?"

"Oh, please, Malfoy. Those days were long gone. This was more of an … experiment."

"Really? You're the second girl I've seen with that same shade of red," he glanced at her hair again.

"Well, it is a nice colour."

Malfoy hummed noncommittally.

"What brings you here?" she asked.

"I need to sign some damages and compensation documents, something like that," he said and then sighed heavily, "It feels as if an entire team of thieves just decided to make me the victim of the month."

"Well, I'm sure you have no trouble there. If anything, you're only grumbling about the trouble they've put you through, what with the extra security and the signing of various documents … having to get out of your lavish bed every morning to sort these things out, I'm sure of it. Rumours are that you're quite loaded," she shrugged and looked straight at the lift doors. Somehow, the lifts seem to be moving extra slow today. They've renovated Gringotts all the way down, where the other departments are, but still …

"And how did you catch wind of such humour, Granger? Do you like men with money?" Malfoy turned to her curiously, a smirk in place.

Then, all of a sudden, she felt as if she was knocked back – but she was still standing. Her hearing was off and everything was sort of … strange, like she was in a dream, staring at Malfoy's face that was growing with interest. She felt her mouth moving but she could hear nothing and move nothing. Her gesture, posture and the way she positioned her head while she was talking changed. It was like she was hearing someone converse through a pillow … or underwater.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, and within seconds, the spell was broken and her hearing and command of her own body returned. Everything was clear and she could move and she could blink –

"And why do you say that?"

She looked down and inspected her hands, moving them as she pleased and she frowned in confusion.

"Hmm?" she asked Malfoy distractedly, "Why do I say what?"

"What you just said," Malfoy said. What the hell was he on about? Why was he speaking in riddles?

"And what did I just say?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Is this a game?"

"No, what did I say?"

"You just told me – you looked as if you turned into a different person with the same face. Your voice lowered, your expression changed and then you said – never mind, move over, people are coming in," Malfoy gestured for her to move away from the door as the lift opened, revealing four people who greeted them as they got in.

Again, Hermione felt something cold trickle down her spine and she began to sweat.

Fuck. Were the potions not working again? Did it somehow make it worse? Based on what Malfoy just said, she was positive that she had just changed without any prompting whatsoever and in the middle of a conversation – just like a switch. This was getting out of hand and it scared the crap out of her.

A colleague noticed her (nervously) sweating and chuckled.

"You'd think that after all the renovations, they'd focus on the lifts, too," Jim, a portly man, chuckled. "It can get quite stuffy in here, eh?"

Hermione laughed politely and nodded. "I agree. I'm melting."

She fanned herself for show and flipped her hair so that she could cool her now sweaty neck.

Malfoy immediately whipped his head towards her and stared. And stared. And continued to stared even as the other people stepped out to head to their offices.

"What perfume are you using?" Malfoy asked suddenly.

"Um," Hermione stammered. That was quite an odd question, "It's something by Crabtree and Evelyn. Tarocco or something. Why do you ask?"

"It seems … familiar," he frowned a little. "Oranges."

Hermione stared at him and her brain was whirring, conjuring possibility after possibility.

"Did you also meet another woman who uses the same perfume? I think it was on sale a few weeks ago," she giggled nervously.

"Maybe. The person who stole my father's painting also smelled like oranges. Except it was more concentrated. Yours is lighter."

Of course the other one was more concentrated. That other idiot uses her perfume in great amounts, spraying herself probably a thousand times, only to have Hermione notice that her favourite perfume was rapidly receding in volume.

"Your thief was a woman?" she asked, looking at the numbers on the lift again. Just two more floors …

"Hmm," he nodded. "A strange one."

"Right. It was nice seeing you, Malfoy," she said as the lifts opened to reveal her department corridor, "Have a good day!"

"You too."

She tried not to walk away awkwardly, but ran like the wind as soon as she heard the lifts close. She ran and ran into her office and slammed the door, clutching her hair tightly.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

She needed to buy a new perfume now and make sure she didn't get too close to Malfoy, and well – what about her hair?

"Oh, Merlin," she pulled her cheeks and whined, "Why did you do it, why did you fucking do it."

And that was hardly as bad as the fact that she had completely switched personalities right in front of Malfoy – without warning, without anything. Shit.

To add to that, she'd robbed Malfoy twice. _Twice_. Oh shit. Imagine the repercussions if she was actually caught. Penalty – no, penitentiary – no, asylum. Everythingatonce. She could imagine it right now – the Daily Prophet, GOLDEN GIRL GONE NUTTY: SCHIZOPHRENIA PROMPTS IMPULSIVE THIEVERY.

That was not good.

She rushed to her office restroom's mirror and gazed at herself.

"You need to stop this nonsense. I've had no qualms about you doing whatever you wanted when you took over, but this time you need to be careful!" she snarled and pointed at herself. "You need to control your impulse and your need for danger and excitement! Stop it; otherwise we will both be fried! You hear me?!"

Hermione's mind was silent for the whole day after that, and she managed to finish her day without any problems, and without forgetting her potions.

* * *

><p>She rang the doorbell twice, and smiled gleefully. She ran her tongue through her teeth, just to make sure that the smile she was going to offer wasn't going to be stained deep red.<p>

The heavy, white door swung open and out popped Draco Malfoy's head. His expression changed from surprise to bewilderment and then finally, exasperation. Funny, she hadn't imagined Draco Malfoy to be this expressive. It must seem strange, to get a masked visitor in the middle of the night.

"Hello, baby," Hermione beamed, leaned in and kissed Malfoy on the cheek, leaving a deep red kiss mark on it. Then, she pushed the bouquet of flowers onto Malfoy's arms, "I got you flowers."

Malfoy sighed and raised an eyebrow, "I'm not a woman. What will I do with flowers?"

"It's alright. You can throw them out after or keep them in a vase if you like. I was on my way here when I caught sight of them, and I thought that these red, red roses go well with your beautiful alabaster skin. So pretty. Imagine what they would look like, all flushed and red under me."

This time, Malfoy frowned deeply.

"I think you're confusing me for a woman."

"Of course not! I'm just really forward," Hermione grinned again, and tapped her foot impatiently, "May I come in?"

"Why should you?" Malfoy argued and crossed his arms, and Hermione took that as leeway for her to squeeze through and into Malfoy's mansion.

A bright, lovely Christmas tree of silver and blue colours stood in the middle of the hall, and Hermione clapped her hands gleefully.

"Ah! I see you've set up your Christmas tree! Let's see … there's something missing though," she turned to Malfoy and sent him a sly look, "What's missing is me, under your Christmas tree, wrapped in ribbon and only ribbon."

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose and then sighed heavily before throwing the flowers onto a table nearby.

"Look, I'm not even going to bother about being polite, but kindly get the hell out of my house before I make you. This is trespassing, and I didn't mind so much about the painting but really, you're not welcome here. So get out before I make you."

"Oooooooooh," Hermione said in singsong tone, slinking towards Malfoy and pushed him against the wall, caressing his bathrobe (silver this time), "And how will you make me?"

"I will grab my wand and curse the shit out of you before binding you and send you off to the Aurors," Malfoy said, hardly containing his indifference at the proximity and the way Hermione was rubbing his collarbone and neck.

Hermione grimaced and pulled away a little before staring into Malfoy's eyes, "That's not very sexy."

"Good, because sexy is the last thing I ever want to sound to you. Get out," Malfoy pointed at the door.

Hermione walked away from him, but not towards the door. Instead, she ventured into the hallway that led to the dining hall. "I'm not averse to having some wine, however."

Malfoy sighed and there was a slight swoosh before his wand came flying into his hand. Instead of cursing her, however, he shut the door with his wand as he followed her.

"Why don't you just steal them and leave?" Malfoy offered.

Hermione glanced at him through her shoulder. "Because I want to spend time with you. I came all this way just to see you, you know."

"I'm flattered but I really don't need a masked thief to have wine with me in the middle of the night."

"Well I don't have to have wine with you. I can always have it on you, either way is fine. You choose," Hermione shrugged and turned into the den instead of the dining hall.

"Fine. One glass, and it's either you tell me what you want or you get the hell out," Malfoy said before summoning a bottle and two glasses.

"It's great to see that you've finally set up the entire place. It looks very … cozy," Hermione commented before collapsing onto an armchair.

Malfoy ignored her and poured a glass of wine grumpily before shoving it towards her. Hermione accepted with an amused face.

Malfoy poured himself a glass and sat opposite her, crossing his legs, watching her like an eagle.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Well, initially I wanted the painting, then the wine," she sipped some wine and cleared her throat at the lovely burn in her throat, "Now I just want you."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Cut the crap."

"Why? Is it so difficult to understand that someone wants you? I mean, look at you," Hermione said blithely, "You looked especially ravishing in the lift today."

Pausing immediately mid-sip, Malfoy pinned her with a serious look.

"In the lift?"

"In the lift," Hermione nodded and grabbed an opened book next to her.

"In the morning or in the evening?"

"Hmm?" Hermione thumbed through the pages.

"So does that mean you were in Gringotts today? Do you work there?" Malfoy shot question after question, seemingly taken aback with this new information.

Hermione ignored him and continued reading. Malfoy, impatient as he was, lifted his wand and pointed it at his face. He cast a spell that was meant to eradicate the mask Hermione had on, but Hermione merely sat back and watched as his spell faltered just as it hit Hermione's mask.

"You think I wasn't prepared for that? You're so cute, Draco," Hermione chuckled, "Nothing can remove this mask except for me."

"A name, at least," he bargained.

"Mrs Draco Malfoy," Hermione giggled coquettishly and burst out laughing at Malfoy's irritated expression, "I'm kidding. Well, not really, but we'll get there."

"You've finished your glass of wine, now tell me, or so help me Merlin I will kick you out of this house," Malfoy said grimly.

Hermione sighed and stood up, walking to the portraits that now hung on the walls. "I told you, Draco, all I really want is you."

"I'm not into one-night-stands with a masked person."

Hermione laughed again, "Of course not!"

"So … what? Do you want to ask me out?"

"That would be … ideal," Hermione turned towards him and rubbed her chin, "That, however, would complicate things and … well; my other half wouldn't enjoy that too much."

"What? You're married?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Of course not. It's just that she gets a little crabby and might seek other ways to control me."

"She? You're gay?" Malfoy asked, getting more and more confused and aggravated at the same time.

"No, Draco, I'm not gay nor am I attached."

Malfoy stared at her for long moments before he seemingly gave up and rubbed his eyes.

"I'm tired, and I'm going to bed. See you never."

"Aw," Hermione pouted as Malfoy stood up. "Don't be like that."

And just like a cat, Hermione jumped onto Malfoy, effectively pushing him back onto the armchair as she straddled him, his wand falling to the floor and rolling away from him.

Hermione muttered a charm under her breath, a charm to conceal the true colour of her eyes as she leaned towards Malfoy.

"Don't be so difficult."

Malfoy was stiff in her arms and his gaze relentless, but he didn't move. He was simply observing, and making mental notes in his mind – that much Hermione could see. She didn't mind, even the most brilliant of minds could not figure out who she was and her affiliation with Hermione Granger (if any).

"Just one kiss and I'll be off," Hermione said. _For the day_ went unsaid.

He nodded mutely – reluctantly, and Hermione smiled as she leaned in, and in and … just as their lips were about to touch, Hermione was pulled back by her suit hood and Malfoy's hand was clutching the back of her head hard.

Something was poking her neck and she realized it was her own wand.

"Tell me who you are," Malfoy hissed, and pushed the wand harder, "_Now_."

Hermione's shocked expression twisted into a devious one as her heart skipped with excitement, "Hmm, I knew there was a reason why I liked you."

This time, catching Malfoy off-guard, she grabbed the back of _his_ head with hands, pulled him towards her and kissed him hard.

Malfoy was shocked, obviously, but the time spent kissing him was enough to make him decide whether he would like to respond or remain limp like he was, and he evidently chose the latter. His clear, grey eyes were trained on her the entire time and were unblinking.

Hermione pulled away and grabbed her wand and stood up so fast that it all seemed like a big blur.

"Well, goodnight, darling. Till next time," she fixed her straight ponytail and walked towards the door. Malfoy was silent, but Hermione continued, "Have sweet dreams of me!"

* * *

><p>Hermione awoke the next day, tasting wine on her tongue, and that attractive cologne was all over her this time.<p>

Money was all over the bedroom again, and before she hit the snooze button on her alarm clock, she had half a mind to just check herself in a mental institute.

Her mind was everywhere that morning and just as she arrived at work, she found that she may or may not have left her enchanted iPod that she wanted to listen to during one of their boring conference meetings later.

"Shit, did I bring it?" she stopped in the atrium and began to rummage through her handbag. She couldn't find it and began to take out things – one by one, there were a lot of small papers (tickets to London, mostly), and then pens and quills and her wallet and – huh? There was that red lipstick _the other one _loved to wear but how the hell did it end up in here?

Then it slipped from her hands, fell onto the floor and began rolling away. Just as she was about to chase after it, a shiny boot lightly stepped on it.

Hermione saw white-blond hair and gulped.

Malfoy bent down and picked it up, examined it for a bit before walking up to Hermione to return it.

"Thanks, Malfoy."

"Didn't think you'd be taken with this colour," Malfoy said. "Too bold for you, despite your current hair colour."

"No, it's not mine … it's umm, a colleague's," she answered.

"I see. It's an interesting colour. It doesn't get in the way of kissing; like most men would say, but … it's quite tough to take out after."

Hermione frowned at that.

"Huh?"

Hermione was genuinely confused as Malfoy watched her face for long moments.

"That was so random, Malfoy," she shook her head and placed everything back in her bag. "Anyway, got to run. Have a good day."

What was that all about?


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Terribly sorry for the minor accident that happened earlier on with this story. Oops. I got too immersed in Hermione's character and got split personality as well. The other me deleted this story and the real me got it up again. Again, sorry!

* * *

><p>Late. She was late.<p>

She bolted through the hallways of St. Caterina's Hospital after arriving via Floo, almost tripping on her own feet as she did. The conference went on longer than usual, and she had scheduled a meeting with a Mind Healer at noon, thinking that she would just pop in for a bit, tell her Mind Healer (a new one at a new hospital this time, because you know how the sessions at St. Mungo's went) that she was completely bonkers and wanted to fix herself.

This place was located just at the edge of Wizarding London – less popular than St. Mungo's of course, and located a little bit at the dodgier area.

And here she was, forty-five minutes late, and running so fast that she couldn't even take in the designs and decorations – except for the huge Christmas tree right in front of the Floo Network. She all but threw herself at the receptionist in front of the Mind Healing department, and a young attractive woman glanced at her waspishly.

"Miss Granger, I presume?" she sneered, handing her a form and magical quill was floating next to Hermione in an instant.

Hermione, panting, nodded and managed to squeeze in a snide look in response to the woman's saucy behaviour. She grabbed the quill forcefully.

"Your Mind Healer has left – her shift ends at half twelve and well," she paused, and looked at Hermione like she was the scum of the earth. "Considering how _early_ you are and all …"

Narrowing her eyes at her, Hermione spoke, "Look, I am perfectly aware that I am late so can we please get on with it? Am I to reschedule or what?"

"Another Mind Healer will be taking over, so you may go in," she glanced at Hermione that was reminiscent of the way Snape used to glance at her back in Hogwarts and Hermione rolled her eyes before storming off.

She opened the door with the "Consultation Room" sign on it and had the impression that she'd just stepped into a hotel. It looked very comfortable, lavish and clean – lots of beiges, lots of safe colours … and she immediately felt at peace. She supposed it was some psychology thing, for Mind Healers to get their patients to get comfortable and open up about their problems. If only St. Mungo's had tried the same, they had bright orange and ruby red wallpapers and Hermione felt nowhere near calm. The only thing she managed to feel was agitation, anger and the need to punch someone in the throat.

There was a lazyboy opposite a sofa set and she decided to get herself comfortable on the sofa, try and calm her racing heartbeat at the idea of meeting a new Mind Healer. She had to explain things all over again and try to get to know this new person once more but she was desperate. She craved freedom so very deeply and she would like nothing more than to be her own person once more. And as much money as the other one brought in, it was still … hmmm … money … no, no, she needed to get rid of her.

She was getting really worried – it seems as if the other her was trying to take over as the dominant personality and that thought scared her. The thought of losing herself, even to something that she had created herself was out of the question and she'd this for as many times as possible, until there she was cured –

There were muffled voices outside the consultation room and the girl outside laughed giddily. More muffled voices, giggles and then a tone of question.

And then the door swung open.

"Ah, yes, please. That would be lovely," a masculine voice said, his (pink! ha) uniformed hand the only thing in view, and he pulled the door shut a little, "Maybe this time lessen the sugar. I quite like my tea to be bitter."

"Alright, if you say so," the saucy girl outside giggled again and the door opened fully.

And then Hermione dropped her jaw.

_Well, fuck me. _It was Draco fucking Malfoy.

She gawked at him and she swore her heart just fell out of her mouth. He hadn't seen her yet as he was still talking to the receptionist regarding his fucking tea. He took a step in and was about to shut the door with his foot as he peered down at a couple of files, and then turned back towards the receptionist.

"Ah, Hilda, I don't have his noon appointment form here, would you mind -" he said, and his head turned towards Hermione, and their eyes met.

He looked as surprised as she was. A fine eyebrow shot up and his face relaxed into an amused half-smile. "Granger."

"Malfoy," she said, and it didn't sound as regal as his greeting, but it sounded like she was in awe – or … like a mouse caught in a trap. Well, it was difficult to sound normal when your brain was doing the opera version of a song entitled 'Fuck'.

"Fancy seeing you here," he smirked and grabbed the form off Hilda-Snotty's hand before shutting the door with his foot.

"Yeah," was the only thing Hermione could get out, and she was absolutely sure that her eyes were as wide as a deer caught in headlights.

Malfoy seemed to have noticed that (psychologists, ugh) and then as he cleared his throat, he shut his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, that was very unprofessional of me. Believe me; I don't behave this way around patients. I'm just … surprised," he explained.

"No problem," Hermione said in that same, monotonous voice as she began to come up with a plan to escape this place. "So am I."

Malfoy walked towards her with his hand stretched out, "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy, your Mind Healer."

Mildly surprised (well, compared to the shock before this), she stood up and captured Malfoy's hand.

"Please, take a seat," Malfoy gestured towards the sofa that she had claimed as her own moments ago, and took his own seat in the lazyboy opposite her.

Hermione moved slowly, folding her skirt and legs, trying to look prim and proper and she watched Malfoy gracefully place himself in the snug chair and cross his legs.

He gave her a charming smile then and Hermione felt really uncomfortable.

"What brings you here today?" Malfoy asked casually.

No way. _No way._

There was no way she was going to go through with this. Draco Malfoy? Her Mind Healer? No way. Absolutely no way.

"Well, I just … I … what are you …" Hermione struggled to construct sentences, "Why are you a Mind Healer?"

"Why?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows and then answered nonchalantly, "Because I spent the last five years or so in Mind Healing university, so I am making full use of my professional degree by helping others who go through some sort of," he cleared his throat once more, "Mental problem. And try to find a solution for them."

"No, I mean, gosh," Hermione threw her face into her hands and groaned like a dying bear, "I don't know what I mean. Sorry, Malfoy."

"No problem, most of my patients ask the same thing," he said and scribbled something in the form, "Most of them say I'm rich enough to live off my family money. But it's alright, you may ask anything you want and say whatever you want. Whatever is said in this room is completely private and confidential. Mind-Healer and patient policy."

Patient. She was going to be Malfoy's patient? Malfoy was going to be the first apart from her friends to find out what a lunatic she truly was? She thought not.

"Um, you're going to be my Mind Healer until …"

"Until we find a treatment most suitable for you," he nodded, and captured her puzzled gaze once more, "But first we need to understand what ails you."

Hermione's heart raced once more.

Was she really going to tell him that she had a split personality disorder? That she turned into a different woman every night? Oh, dear. It wasn't that they had quite a volatile history but it was because … he knew who she was and that made it seem a thousand times worse. Surely he was not the same person back in Hogwarts but she really could not go through with this. Anyone but Malfoy.

Just as she was about to address her current discomfort with the hospital's choice of Mind Healer for her, she caught Malfoy stifling a yawn with his hand. His eyes watered and he blinked many times, and when he looked up, he smiled apologetically.

"So sorry about that. Again, this is not the way I usually behave around patients. It's just that I have a tough time sleeping these days."

"Why?" Hermione asked, almost feeling the need to laugh at the fact that their roles have been switched.

"Well, work for one," he stifled a yawn again and shook his head, "And when I finally do get some proper sleep, someone invades my home and agitates me so much that I cannot go back to sleep."

Hermione grinned, "Well, tell your girlfriend to lay off for a while then."

Malfoy scoffed and pursed his lips, "It's not a girlfriend, nor someone I've been seeing or planning to see. It's just some loony who comes over more often than I would like. Actually, I don't and would not ever like it at all."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "So it's one of your patients, then?"

"Oh, Merlin, no. I don't know who she is. She just barges into my house, drinks my wine, snogs me and then professes her love for me."

"So …" Hermione frowned.

Malfoy shrugged. "It's no problem. I'm used to people like that."

"Crazy people, you mean," she looked at him pointedly.

"Well, if we're talking in non-PC terms here, then yes, I am used to crazy people. And she is one of them. But I'll figure her out as soon as possible, including who she is."

"Interesting. Have you considered changing your wards then?"

"I have, plenty of times. It's just that she's so brilliant in her spell work that she knocks them down very easily," he sighed.

Hermione nodded, clearly impressed.

"But let's not deviate – what brings you here Miss Granger?" he said, placing the form on a desk and folding his hands.

"I … am …" she started, "Uncomfortable."

"You may lie down if you like," Malfoy answered almost immediately.

"No, that's not what I meant."

Should she tell him?

No, she shouldn't. Something in her mind was clearly warning her against it. It was like sirens, and the more she felt like telling Malfoy, the louder it became.

But he could help her.

Still …

"Granger, are you uncomfortable with my being your Mind Healer?" Malfoy asked, face neutral and voice professional.

"No! Of course not!" she protested, anything to make Malfoy feel at ease. He needed to know that it had nothing to do with their history.

"So tell me, what troubles you?" He said in a calm, gentle voice.

Hermione admitted inwardly, that voice could get even a goat to sing. It was so persuasive, so … sensual? No. It was more like a best friend coaxing another friend to tell whatever is on his or her mind, so to speak. None of that bedroom voice tripe.

"I …"

_I am a lunatic. I change into a different person every night. I also steal and give to the poor and keep half of it stashed in my flat._

"I am … depressed?"

Malfoy blinked. "Are you?"

"I don't – I think – yes, yes I am."

"Why do you think you're depressed?"

_Because something else is trying to take over me and please help me._

"Because," she looked up into grey eyes. "Because …"

She gave up. She took a deep, deep breath and opened her mouth to say the words.

"Malfoy, this really isn't working," she blurted.

"I see," he smiled a little. "It's no problem, Granger. If you're truly uncomfortable with me, I can hand you back to Healer Williams."

"Would you?" she asked him, relief clearly showing on her face.

Malfoy nodded and stood up, "Of course."

She, too, stood up and grabbed Malfoy's elbow before he got the chance to walk towards the door. He looked back at her and again, surprise was on his face.

"I just … I just wanted to say that the reason why I'm uncomfortable with you is not because of what happened before," she said sincerely, "Nor has it anything to do with who you are."

Malfoy patiently waited for her to finish, eyes boring into hers.

"I would just prefer someone who doesn't know me at all," she smiled sheepishly.

He returned the smile and nodded.

"I understand, Granger. Don't worry."

"Thanks, Malfoy."

He walked her to the door and opened it for her, genuinely wishing her a good remainder of the day and reminded her to check in again in two days for her appointment with the other Mind Healer. Hermione said her thank you's.

Deep inside, she felt an odd sense of relief. And it had something or everything to do with Malfoy. Just that she wasn't sure why and how.

Funnily enough, before she left for her office, Malfoy asked if she would like to grab tea sometime. She said yes.

* * *

><p>"Ba dum dee dum dum," she hummed as her boots went 'tap, tap, tap' on the marble stair leading towards grand entrance doors.<p>

She reached out for the doorbell with a sly grin and pressed.

_Ding Dong! Ding Dong! Dingdongdingdongdingdong!_

She knew she was being irritating, and she loved it. She also knew that Malfoy was perfectly aware that she could Apparate straight into his house without a problem, but she loved the idea of flustering Malfoy and how he always opened the door with an irritated expression.

In a few seconds, she would see a completely flushed, irritated, pale face of Draco Malfoy and that would give her some sort of wicked pleasure.

As she expected, the door flew open to reveal a –

Half-naked Draco Malfoy.

She positively purred in delight as she ogled his body from top to toe.

He obviously just got out of the shower, a towel wrapped lowly around his waist and droplets of water ran down his bare chest. She wanted to lick them.

His hair was in a mess, still damp and water still clung to those fine, golden strands. She wanted to lick his hair too.

"Are you done? Cause if you are, you can leave," Malfoy said irritably.

Hermione laughed mirthfully and pushed herself into his house, hands "accidentally" brushing his crotch as she passed. Malfoy immediately moved away from her hands and slammed the door shut.

"How are you, baby?" she asked, turning around to plant a kiss on Malfoy's cheek – which, he avoided with a quick duck and a jog towards the stairs.

"Ah, that's not very nice," she pouted. "I got you a present."

"Didn't ask for one."

"Well, I got you one anyway. It's a little early, considering we're about four weeks away from Christmas, but I realized that you put your Christmas tree up way before advent."

Malfoy was quiet.

"And since we're doing things very early, let's open it now," she said excitedly as she placed her wand on a small table by the stairs and ripped open the present she got for Malfoy. She'd just robbed another affluent man in Wizarding London and distributed it to the poor before taking some of the leftovers to buy Malfoy a present.

"Look!" she put them up for Malfoy to see. "They're man thongs! One is see-through and one looks like a mini-kilt that barely covers your crotch!"

Saying nothing, Malfoy walked up the stairs – presumably to change. Hermione was still grinning excitedly as she gazed at the thongs, and very cheekily placed them on the branches of Malfoy's Christmas tree.

"If you've come for the wine, you know where it is," Malfoy called out from upstairs.

"I came for you, darling. I will always come for you."

"Ugh," Malfoy responded. "Also, I'm renovating the cellar again. Maybe you could tinker around a bit and get yourself killed by pieces of the falling ceiling. That would be nice."

"How sweet of you to warn me," Hermione sighed and then walked towards the cellar.

As promised by Malfoy, it was in a mess indeed, bricks and stone and dust everywhere. She immediately searched the area where Malfoy normally kept his wine, but it was no longer there.

Hmm. She moved around the cellar and found that the small alcove to which Malfoy had relocated the wine to protect it from being damaged was blocked by rubble.

Remembering that she had left her wand upstairs, she groaned. She was far too lazy to go up and fetch the damned thing. She inspected the rubble for long moments before deciding that they were small enough to move with her hands and strength.

Then she began digging. Rubble by rubble, bit by bit until parts of the wine bottles could be seen. Smiling gleefully, she continued her excavation enthusiastically, planning to butter Malfoy up with wine and then sweet-talk him into giving her a goodnight kiss or something more.

A particular part of the ruins was more stubborn than the rest and no matter how hard she pulled, it wouldn't budge. Steadying her feet, she pulled as hard as she could. Time wasted trying to sort this shit out means time wasted with Malfoy, and she hated that.

Sweat began to drip down her mask but she didn't bother, she pulled and pulled until her entire being shook.

Unfortunately for her though, the rubble also shook, and that particular part that she was pulling came free, and with the force and momentum with which she applied to pull it free came back towards her and it was far too late for her to avoid it.

_SMACK! _It her head.

She was stunned, disorientated for a bit and managed to feel warm blood trickle down the size of her temple before she fell down onto the floor with a pathetic "Ow", and lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>"… <em>ervate."<em>

She heard bits of the familiar revival spell before she fell as if her soul was being forcefully pulled back into her body.

And someone was snapping their fingers.

"Hey. Hey."

She groaned.

"Hey, you. Are you dead?"

"No," she answered. "I don't think so."

"Ah, how disappointing," the person, male, answered.

Hermione snapped her eyes open and found something heavy on her face, and she could see black outlines around her eyes. Merlin knows what it was.

"How rude!" she retorted. "How could you say that?"

She tried to get up and clutched her head – around the right side, which felt quite ... wet. She pulled her right hand back to see that it was … hmm it was all so blurry. What was it? Blood?

"Ugh, what happened?" she blinked the blurriness out of her eyes and tried to focus on the being right in front of her. "Why am I bleeding?"

"Because I told you I was renovating and you didn't listen. Didn't take precautions, eh?" the same snotty voice answered.

Her vision began to clear, and she found Draco Malfoy's grey eyes staring back at her. He was tapping his foot impatiently and had his arms crossed.

"Malfoy?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing here?"

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question. You come in here night after night. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Where am I?" Hermione looked around the ruined cellar.

Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Look, I've already entertained a thief and a lunatic, and you're both of them at once. I would not like to entertain an amnesiac as well."

Hermione eyes widened.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense. Her brain was piecing everything together –

"I am … in your house?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes."

"And … I come here every night?"

"Yes."

"And … you think I'm crazy?"

"Evidently," he sighed.

Hermione gasped out loud before she brought her hand towards her mouth. Malfoy's head snapped towards her and watched her intently.

"What?"

She was silent, as she began to compose thoughts in her head. Malfoy had mentioned that someone crazy always came by and … it was a she … and … and … that familiar cologne wafting off Malfoy's body … and –

Her eyes widened some more. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

_She _was the one Malfoy was talking about during her consultation. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

"What?" Malfoy pushed on.

"I, um …"

No. She must not make it obvious that she was indeed, Hermione Granger.

"I'm tired."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "I see. Yes, you do look a bit off."

"What do you mean?"

"You seem … changed. Did you hit your head that hard?"

Yes, yes she did.

Shit.

She seemed to recall Malfoy saying _"But I'll figure her out as soon as possible, including who she is." _And Merlin almighty if that didn't scare the bejesus out of her. Him finding out this way was far worse than Hermione admitting it to him straight in the consultation room.

If he found out now, it would be bad. It would be so bad. She was so many things to him right now in this form – a thief, an almost-rapist and Merlin knows what else.

And now she needed to find a way to get out of here.

_Be calm, be cool. Pretend to be the other her._

She stood up immediately, ignoring her thundering chest as much as she could. Holding her head high, she straightened her back and stared at Malfoy straight on.

"I'm going to go."

"Really? Just like that?" Malfoy asked, face amused.

"Why, do you want us to do other things?" she attempted to smile cheekily and hopefully it didn't come out as a grimace.

"No, please, by all means. Leave."

"Fine, Malfoy," she responded.

Malfoy blinked once and then started watching her like an eagle, grey eyes following her every movement, even as she passed by him to jog up the stairs to the hallway.

_Quick, quick. But not too quick. You don't want him to suspect that something is off._

She tried to walk as fast as she could without making it look like she was running, but Malfoy was tailing her. And it was so difficult to walk in these skin-tight jeans!

"Don't need to walk me out," she waved dismissively, but Malfoy was having none of it.

"You're bleeding. Want me to fix that?"

"No, no need, I'll do it later."

"Alright," he stood next to his Christmas tree and watched her walk towards the table where she had her wand. An apple flew past her and Malfoy had obviously caught it behind her.

_Just a little bit more, just a little – a little bit more to your wand and you can Disapparate the shit out of this place._

"Hey, Granger?"

She paused in her step, face pale.

_FUCK._

She then continued to walk towards her wand, hoping against hope that Malfoy didn't see that slight pause in her movement when he called out her last name.

Finally clutching her wand in her hand, she turned towards him.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" she asked coolly.

"I said, Granger," he said, biting into the apple.

She blinked a couple of times, her heart beating so fast that she could feel it in her head, "What's that?"

"Never mind," Malfoy grinned.

And then she Disapparated.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Granger,<em>

_Tea today? Huck's Café at 4pm._

_D. Malfoy._

…

It was a Saturday, and Hermione had woken up to an Owl from Malfoy, of all people. She was positively shaking all the way to her bones as she tore open the letter, only to find out that he had merely followed up on their tea arrangements.

It was fine, but still … well, not entirely fine. She was on tip-toe the entire time, especially when she had agreed and left the house to meet him. Hopefully tea arrangements meant that he still did not suspect anything.

He flashed her brilliant smile as she spotted him in front of Huck's Café, and she gave a watery smile in return. They exchanged greetings and walked into the café, sat down and ordered.

"So, Granger. Long night?" was the first thing Malfoy said when they got their tea and cakes.

Hermione's heart escaped from her ears apparently because she could hear it beat faster and faster at Malfoy's question.

"Yeah, was up all night watching my favourite television show, episode after episode," she answered glibly.

"Oh," he smiled knowingly from the top of his tea cup.

**TBC!  
>Read and Review! <strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione Granger had finally met her match. Which was why she wholeheartedly agreed to Malfoy's announcement when they were about to part ways that evening.

"Listen, Granger. I'd like to see you again," he had said.

Her answer to that was a blinding smile, something that had happened way before her mind had given her face full permission to do so. She could only take that as a good sign. After all, they clearly clicked and were on par with each other it was almost unreal. Where had he been all her life? Well, obviously Hogwarts, around and stuff but … really, where had he been all her life?

She resisted the horrifying urge to squeal and go "yes, yes, yes me too me too" like a dog and opted for a softer approach, such as that blinding smile and a "Yes, that'd be lovely."

And so they arranged for another meeting. And another, and another.

This would be the perfect time to say "and the rest is history", but alas, the life of one Hermione Granger was just about to get even more complicated than her current predicament of liking Draco and having a serious mental issue.

Her alter ego was behaving – according to Draco, who said that the lunatic had stopped trying to jump him and just popped in to say hi every now and then. Hermione did not know what to think of that.

Draco had reached out across the dinner table and grasped her hand gently, grey eyes looking up at her in concern, "Are you alright?"

This was their fourth date, a quiet, clandestine dinner at some Italian restaurant. To Hermione, it didn't start off as dates but she wondered: if they weren't dates, what were they exactly? Hanging out? She didn't think Draco Malfoy was the type to hang out with someone just to get to know them better. She was ready for to make Draco the object of her fascination and only that, but not after the second time they met. Brushes of hands, almost-shy glances and then well … the third date, Draco took her for a walk to his favourite hot dog and coffee stand in London, and Draco had grabbed her hand as they crossed the road and never let go until he had to, in order to hold his coffee and hot dog. After that, he resumed holding her hand to take her to some secondhand bookstore, like he'd been holding her hand for forever and a day.

"Hmm?" Hermione looked up and caught his gaze.

"You were frowning at your menu," Draco grinned.

"Oh, no, was just thinking," she smiled.

"About me, I hope," Draco said cheekily before winking. He let go of her hand and relaxed but the air was obviously romantic. Hermione couldn't and didn't want to deny it anymore.

"So full of yourself," Hermione whispered under her breath and smiled a little as she studied the menu again, and that earned her a laugh.

Now … the current problem was addressing the issue of her mental problem to Draco. She realized that she had to be straight him with before anything happened – at least before they kissed. And if Hermione's prediction was correct (as always was), that would happen tonight. This meant that they had to find a quiet place, just the two of them, so that she could come clean about it.

She inwardly cringed at the idea of telling Draco that it was her who stole the painting and ransacked his wine collection and acted like a dog in heat around him but … how shall she start her explanation?

_Draco, I just get a little crazy around you. Romantically and literally. _

Um, yeah, that sounded alright. Now to suggest a quieter place after dinner …

"Care for some more wine at my place after dinner?" Draco asked suddenly and as their eyes caught once more, Hermione knew. They were definitely going to kiss later, and she had to squeeze in that bit of explanation before said kiss happened. Oh, crap. Well, at least she would be able to give him a choice – between dating a recovering (yeah, right) psycho or walking away. The choice was up to him, and she was ready for both.

"Showing off your classier collection, I presume?" Hermione retorted. "But yes, I would care for some of your wine."

_Not that I haven't tasted them._

Draco watched her for a moment before grinning, "Not really. That was just me being polite about my intention to sit you down at my sofa and snog you silly, but if it's wine that you're after, we could have that too."

Instantly, Hermione's face flushed red and her heart sped at Draco's candor. It was much appreciated, nonetheless. They both knew they were smart enough to figure out the rest, and Hermione was so used to being able to see right through Ron's fidgety behaviour before holding hands and kissing her and all those badly-orchestrated events. This was a nice change. At least Draco didn't think she was dumb enough to not expect it. And oh, was she expecting it!

They Apparated straight to the Draco's and Hermione inwardly winced at the idea that she'd been here so many times late at night, stealing wine, stealing paintings, attempting to steal heart …

"The den is over there," Draco pointed as he unfurled his thick scarf from his neck, "Have a seat and I'll be right with you."

"There?" Hermione pointed just to confirm, and Draco nodded as he left to get that debatable wine. While it is true that she'd physically been in here before, she had no recollection of the house nor its contents and directions. Tentatively walking towards the den, she sat down at a maroon sofa and made herself comfortable, gazing at the flames in the fireplace.

Her heart was beating fast in anticipation – for both the "talk" and the kiss. Hopefully in that order, because judging from the state of Draco's lips, if the latter happened first, there was no way she'd be able to conduct the talk.

"Here you go," a hand shot out of nowhere, handing her a glass of wine and the smell was so wonderful that Hermione knew this was one of his best.

"Ah, thank you, Draco," she replied and Draco took a seat next to her.

They both sipped on the wine, quietly watching the flames.

"Exquisite," Hermione mumbled, letting Draco know that this was fucking great wine before she tipped her head back and swallowed the entire content. Hissing gratefully at the sudden bravado the wine gave her, she placed the glass on the coffee table before turning to Draco with full determination.

"Draco, there is something I need to tell you, and it's very urgent," she said hastily, as her eyes followed Draco moving to put his half-finished wine glass on the coffee table too. "It is very imperative that you know this, because -"

And then Draco grabbed the sides of her face and caressed it so gently that Hermione almost whined.

"Because?" Draco whispered, face inches away from her.

"Because it pertains to -"

"It pertains to?" Draco whispered, and his lips brushed ever-so-slightly against hers, teasing.

"Because … mmmphhhmmm," Hermione couldn't wait to taste those lips so she decided on mashing their lips together and humming her explanation (or appreciation), hoping that his lips would somehow decipher that message.

Obviously not because Draco greeted her kiss with equal enthusiasm, and it was absolutely perfect. In that moment, Hermione's brain was sending out various messages, a strange mixture of "oh crap" and "oh yes" in succession.

The last bits of that kiss was spent clinging on to each others' lips like they'd never get a taste again, but Draco pulled back first and gazed at her with an unnamed expression on his face. There was wonder, and then there was relief and somehow, knowing.

"I knew it," Draco whispered.

"Knew what?" she said, her hands clutching his shirt tightly. Hermione was expecting him to say something romantic like in those Muggle movies, like "I knew it … I knew our kiss was going to be worth the wait" or some garbage like that.

"I knew you'd kiss different than the other you."

Before Hermione could even comprehend or express her puzzlement, she suddenly lost control of her body and mind, and it felt as if she was being pulled away forcefully. Draco was getting further and further away from her line of vision and as much as she tried to fight for control, she lost. Her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness.

* * *

><p>Hermione's head was limp, as if she was asleep in an upright position, being held straight only by Draco's grip around her.<p>

Draco watched with an extremely serious mien, but he did not relinquish his hold on her. He was … waiting.

And then Hermione's head and neck moved, as if she was stretching the muscles there. There was a heavy intake of breath and a deep sigh before her eyes opened. Her entire posture changed, her body language as well as the way she gazed at Draco.

"Mmm, been waiting for this ever since I met you, baby," she said, her voice lowered as she watched Draco predatorily. She all but jumped on him and started kissing him, hands working furiously on his buttons and the belt of his trousers and the zip.

Draco was unresponsive. His face hardened and his grip on her tightened, bordering on painful.

Hermione pulled back and groaned.

"Ow, you're hurting me. Though I don't hate it," Hermione winked and then tried to inch closer towards Draco's face once more. This time, Draco immediately flinched back and put some distance between them. "Now that hurt, and that I hated," Hermione pouted.

"Who are you?"

"Don't be silly, baby. Hermione Granger, of course. The one you're clearly infatuated with," Hermione shrugged and crossed her legs.

Draco raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"It's true. I am Hermione Granger. She is me, and I am her – we are one. I was created out of necessity. I am the necessary evil in her life, so to speak," Hermione supplied and made a grab for Draco's wine glass. She gulped down the rest of it and sent a satisfied smile towards Draco.

"Excellent taste as usual."

"Why do you say you were created out of necessity?" Draco folded his hands this time, like a professional.

"Oh please don't go all therapist on me," Hermione rolled her eyes, "It doesn't work. I am far too strong for that. In fact, I am growing stronger and stronger. I was okay with taking the night shift, but thanks to you and my desire for you, I am fighting so very hard to be the dominant one. And then kick old Hermione Granger out of the picture. Entirely."

Draco frowned at her.

"And why would you want to do that?"

"To have you, of course. All to myself," Hermione smiled sweetly.

"You see, therein lies the problem. I don't want you – I want her," Draco answered seriously while gesturing with his hand, the frown still marring his features.

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

"We're the same, you'll eventually accept it."

"No, and I refuse. I don't think I'll let you."

"Whatever, Mr. Mind Healer," Hermione shrugged and began inching towards Draco once more. "Let's continue where we stopped before she takes over again."

Draco stopped her in her tracks with a single hand and shook his head.

"You haven't told me why you were created."

"Why should I tell you that?" Hermione raised an eyebrow as her finger began inching towards the zip once more.

Sighing, Draco smacked her hands away and began to do up his zipper and belt. Hermione was looking more and more upset by the second.

"What are you doing?!" she all but cried out.

"Well, since you're not telling me anything, I might as well put my shirt on and be on my way," Draco said simply and pulled up his zip.

"NO!" Hermione bellowed and surrendered, "Alright, alright! I'll tell you, I'll tell you!"

"Go on," Draco stopped mid-motion and waited.

"It was the war. Trauma, inability to stop obsessing over what has happened, guilt, stress, unavailability of outlets – the whole enchilada. So hence," she answered crisply.

Draco was quiet for long moments, and he seemed to be deep in thought. After a while, he looked at Hermione and asked gently, "May I speak to her please?"

"Why?" Hermione demanded childishly.

"For me, at least," Draco said, mustering his most charming expression ever, "You would do that for me, wouldn't you?"

Hermione blinked and then breathed heavily, "I will do _anything_ for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"So let me speak to her."

"Bye, love," Hermione grinned cheekily and then her eyes rolled back, and she fell forward into Draco's chest.

* * *

><p>"Hermione?" a voice called out.<p>

So concerned, so … gentle.

So Draco.

Hermione's nostrils were also invaded by the smell of Draco.

"Hermione," the voice called again.

"Draco?" Hermione mumbled.

"Yes."

And then Hermione's eyes flew open and she got up so fast that she elbowed Draco's rib in the process.

"Ow!" Draco exclaimed and Hermione immediately backed away to the end of the sofa, opposite Draco.

Draco was watching her almost tiredly, or was it pityingly?

Hermione studied him – based on the way he was looking at her and … the state of his clothes as well as hers … she knew something was up. Something had happened.

Fuck.

"Draco … I …"

"Granger," he said, and shook his head right away. He approached her slowly and took her hands in his, stroking them gently. "Hermione. I know."

"No … no … tell me you didn't … she didn't … I didn't?" she stammered, a thousand thoughts raced through her mind and she fought the urge to just sleep it off right then and there. She didn't want to deal with this right now.

"Yes, to all of that and no to the last one, she didn't rape me," Draco reassured her, as if he could read her mind. "But here, listen to me."

"No … no … I can't believe this! This is getting out of hand!" Hermione shook her head furiously, and she thought she probably looked like a psycho. Which … was obviously what she was.

"Hermione, listen to me," Draco tried again, gently.

"I need to go – bye, Malfoy. And sorry," she tore her hands away from Draco's grasp, and stood up. Her face was so hot and her hands were simultaneously cold and she didn't know what to do at the moment but leave – except her mind was in such a mess that she didn't know _how _to leave.

"Hermione! Listen to me!" Draco said, raising his voice a little.

Hermione blinked at him.

"I knew," he said, looking up at her guiltily. "I knew – the first few times, I knew. I do it for a living, Hermione."

Hermione was indignant, affronted. She knew what he was on about now. Her eyes flashed with hurt and Draco visibly winced.

"You … you knew all alone? You knew I … so was all of that a sham then? Those dates and conversations and time?" Hermione began, her verbal diarrhea gathering momentum.

"No, Hermione …"

"You … was I just another case of yours then? Another person to save? Was I just something to boost your ego and you career and your self-affirmation? To uncover my condition and subsequently try to heal me?" she hissed.

"I'm trying to help."

"I didn't ask for your help, Malfoy," she yelled, defensive, "As I recall, I am _not _your patient. As I recall, I asked for another Mind Healer. Shove off, Malfoy."

She cast him a dirty look before grabbing her wand, finally able to figure out how to leave.

"Look, I know this hypnotherapist. Very good. That's the last resort when medication and therapy do not work, as in your case."

"In my case …" Hermione was biting back tears of anger and frustration and humiliation at this point. "_In my case!_"

She nodded and kept nodding, as if telling herself something. Her eyes were shining with tears and she finally swallowed before deciding to stay no longer.

"Au Kar Mun. In Diagon Alley. She's a renowned hypnotherapist from China. Look her up, please. Hermione, please. I know that choice is absolutely yours, but please. Please get _you_ back. Entirely," Draco said, eyes beseeching and gleaming with utter genuineness. "Heed my advice. If not as a professional, then as a friend. A friend that has the potential to be so much more, and cares deeply about you."

Had Hermione been OK, she would've found that moment perfect and romantic … but she was too pissed, too humiliated and her mind was so tangled up that she couldn't handle anything else.

"Bye, Draco."

With a 'pop', she was out of Draco's home.

**DUN DUN DUN!  
>TBC!<strong>

**Read and review!**


	5. Chapter 5

Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she saw that her entire bedroom was covered in wrecked vases, shards of broken mirrors and butchered items. It looked as if someone had broken into her room and just destroyed everything.

She rolled her eyes. Evidently, that wasn't the case. She had only herself to blame, last night, not even her alter ego. She'd come home from Draco's so terribly angry and defeated and humiliated that she just decided to devastate her entire bedroom. And left it that way.

There were only several days left until Christmas, and she was not feeling it one bit. It was all quite sad, as Christmas was her most favourite time of the year and this time, more than ever, it was compromised. She was sad, angry, stressed and above all else, tired. In fact, she was so tired that she decided to take Draco's advice and see this hypnotherapist he mentioned.

And so with a heavy heart and a heavy coat, she dragged herself to Diagon Alley, where she located said hypnotherapist's office (which looked like a Chinese antique shop more than anything) and knocked.

"Coming!" a high-pitched, sing-song-y voice answered. Hermione could hear that Chinese opera music was playing in the background and she had half a mind to just leave, but as her right foot began to take a step to escape, the door swung open, and red lips greeted her.

That was the first thing she saw as the hypnotherapist answered the door – bright and pouty, and then her twinkling eyes were magnified by thick-framed lenses. It was like seeing a strange cross between Dumbledore and Trelawney. She was a portly, short woman, but that didn't stop her from wearing a cheongsam.

"How can I help you?" she smiled, her classical music took on a sadder, dramatic tone and Hermione felt that she could relate to that, even though she didn't know any Chinese at all.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I was referred to you by -"

"Draco Malfoy, yes," she grinned toothily and opened the door wider, "He told me you would come by."

"Did he?" Hermione smiled wistfully and stepped into the threshold, taking in the variety of the shapes and colours of the Laughing Buddha stacked haphazardly on bookcases. There were also many, many books, all of which were in Chinese. The entire place smelled like Chinese incense, and that somehow calmed her mind.

"Yes, he described you very well," she smiled mysteriously and began dancing as the opera music began speeding up in tempo, "Have a seat. Tea?"

"Oh, yes please," Hermione shot her a puzzled look, as she made her way to a jade green sofa set in the middle of the antiques that surrounded the place. "What did he tell you exactly?"

"Oh, many things," she danced as she tapped her wand on a kettle, instantly boiling it.

She was about to ask her if all therapists were usually cryptic, but then she forgot that they excelled at mind-fuckery. Figures.

"He told me that you needed my help."

"Oh. Right. Yes, I figured I should give it a shot," Hermione said as she took her scarf off. "You may call it my last resort. I've tried everything."

She seemed to ignore Hermione as she fussed around with the tea, and she looked up to quickly say, "He also told me that you were very pretty. Lovely, curly locks, bright brown eyes and mind par excellence." She winked at the last bit and continued humming. The humming continued even as she moved away from the teapot for a bit to switch off the music.

Hermione blushed at that and instantly felt warmth spreading in her chest as she inspected her gloves.

"Well, a mind that clearly needs help straightaway too," Hermione answered immediately, trying to not let her see that she was affected by Draco's words.

"Tea," Au Kar Mun appeared out of nowhere and gave Hermione a start.

"Ah, thank you."

Au Kar Mun sat next to hear at the sofa, and that instantly brought flashbacks of last night with Draco and the warmth in Hermione's chest changed to an ache.

"Tell me about yourself," Au Kar Mun began.

* * *

><p>Hermione was tired.<p>

Her eyes were tired.

She had lost count of the times she broke down and started sobbing her heart out every time Au Kar Mun forced her to say what it was that haunts her until this day. She was forced to recollect all those gory images of war, the blood spilled, the people who died, Fred, leaving her parents, changes, inability to be on the same page with herself …

The Chinese tea Au Kar Mun provided seemed to ease her pain a little bit, and the more she drank, the calmer she got and the more she talked.

"I see," Au Kar Mun nodded and moved away from the sofa. She approached a large box and began to rummage through it, as Hermione looked on with swollen, teary eyes.

Au Kar Mun procured a metronome and straightened. She smiled at Hermione as she placed the metronome on the small table next to Hermione, and started it.

_Tick … tick … tick …_

"Right. I want you to assume a comfortable position. You may choose to lie down, if that keeps you most relaxed," she told Hermione gently, as she offered to take Hermione's cup away from her, "Let me take that."

"Oh, okay," Hermione sniffed and nodded, and threw her feet up on the sofa to lie in a supine position.

"Close your eyes," Au Kar Mun said.

Hermione nodded once more as she folded her hands on her chest, took a deep breath and shut her eyes. She was going to do this for herself. It was worth a shot. Plus, if she did get better, she could start fresh with Draco (if he was still interested of course. He did say she was very pretty). If not, then she would have to tell Draco she cannot see him anymore and … well, maybe move to Africa or something. That way she could get her alter ego to hunt poachers. At least she would still be doing something nice for the environment there instead of waiting to jump on Draco and harass him. Well, apart from all that she really didn't want to be sick for the rest of her life. That was equally important.

"Stop thinking," Au Kar Mun admonished her gently.

"Okay, I'm trying," Hermione frowned.

"Clear your mind and listen to the ticking. Be one with it. Breathe."

_Tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …_

"Concentrate on rhythmic breathing."

_Tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …_

"Your brain waves will also slow down."

_Tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …_

"Time is distorting."

_Tick … tick … tick … tick … tick …_

"Now … repeat after me," Au Kar Mun whispered, "The beats are slowing now … slower … slower …"

Hermione repeated after her monotonously, mind as blank as paper, "The beats are slowing now … slower … slower …"

_Tick … tick … tick … tick …_

"The time between each beat seems to be longer and longer."

Hermione repeated after her.

_Tick … tick … tick … _

"I am relaxed, and at peace with myself."

Hermione breathed, "I am relaxed, and at peace with myself."

_Tick … tick … _

_Tick … tick … _

_Tick … _

_Tick._

And all was black.

"Hermione."

"Yes," she responded in a quiet voice.

"What do you see?"

Silence.

And then, "Nothing. I see nothing."

"Good. Now, I want you to press into your mind. Unlock, and explore."

Hermione took a deep breath and started visualizing her mind. Of how it would look like.

She was in a hallway. A hallway with lots of doors. Doors that were different in colour and had different labels on them. It was so typical of Hermione to have even her mind compartmentalized like that.

"I see … a hallway, I see doors," she said.

"Good. What do these doors say?"

Hermione's eyes moved in their sockets, as she looked around in her mind, finding the first few doors to be "Mum & Dad", "2 – 5 years Old" and "Elementary School". There even was "Hogwarts" and "Harry Potter", "Ron Weasley" and strangely enough, a silver and green ornamented door that had Draco's name on it.

She stopped right in front of the door, and held out her hand to open it, but she paused.

"I see Draco's name, and others too," she said. "I'm right outside Draco's door."

"Those are your thoughts and memories of him, all collected and documented behind those doors. However, that's not what you're looking for, is it?"

"No."

"Go on."

Hermione turned away from the door and started venturing further into the darkness of the hallway. The further she got, the bleaker it became.

The lovely decorations and wallpapers that festooned the hallways earlier on were gone and now these edges seemed to be worn out, torn and damaged. Some doors looked half-eaten by termites, most of them in poor condition. Upon closer inspection, she saw that they were labelled "War", "Death", and "Life".

"I see … bloodcurdling doors – War, Death," she said. "This is making me really uncomfortable. I hear sounds coming from them. Screams, spells."

"Ignore them, and push forward. You're nearly there," came the calm voice of Au Kar Mun.

"Nearly where?"

"You'll see. Go on."

Mind-Hermione pressed her hands to her ears to block out those sounds and all but ran towards the end of the hallway.

It was completely dark by now, with the only source of light being the one emitting from the wall lights behind her.

But what she saw now needed not much light, as it was big – painted in black and red. It didn't have a label, but she knew what it was.

"I see it," Hermione informed Au Kar Mun.

"Good, good. Are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Go in."

Hermione twisted the doorknob and pushed, and the door swung open heavily.

There was a white, clean wall. And it was decorated with many, many frames.

There were pictures of wine, pictures of paintings, some of Draco Malfoy, some of gold and some of various parts of Hermione's other life.

And then she heard footsteps.

She turned towards the sound and much to her surprise, saw herself walking towards her.

The other her had a malicious grin, a slinky way of walking and an intimidating aura.

"I see her," Hermione whispered.

"Engage," Au Kar Mun ordered.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Well, well, well, if this isn't a nice surprise," the other Hermione grinned wider and planted a kiss on Hermione's cheek, "How are you, my other half – literally? Or I suppose I should say my lesser half now."

She tossed her head back and laughed, the sound echoing in the small room.

"You know, I wasn't expecting you to pay me a visit. How kind."

"I came here to tell you to leave me alone," Hermione snarled.

The other her blinked, and cocked her head in curiosity.

"Why? You need me," she smiled.

"I don't."

"I seem to recall the scared little girl at seventeen, the one who completely allowed me to take over from time to time. I am the reason why we are here today," the other her supplied, still grinning.

"I am strong enough to take it today. I no longer need you," Hermione said firmly.

"Oh?"

"Yes, you're forgetting that I am still in charge, and I can and will wipe you out right now," Hermione began to collect energy, so as to banish this other her and destroy this room and door once and for all.

The other Hermione frowned deeply.

"Don't be silly. You may think you have that power, but you're forgetting that if you wipe me out, you're going to wipe out parts of yourself too. You have that risk of turning into a vegetable if you do so."

"You're lying," Hermione shook her head and paused only a moment in gathering her mind energy before continuing once more.

"I'm not joking. I am beginning to take over you, Hermione. And what that means is that I dominate more than half of you. If you willfully take me out, you take out yourself. You'll be an empty shell of a person then," the other her smirked as she buffed her nails against her leather pants.

"No!"

"Yes!" the other Hermione laughed. "So you see, you really do need me."

"I don't! Get the fuck away! Leave and never come back!" Hermione yelled as loud as she could, and the walls shook and the frames began to fall onto the floor one by one in succession – smashing and making a mess on the floor.

The other Hermione tsk'ed and growled. "Now look at what you've done!"

"GO AWAY! I DON'T NEED YOU! LEAVE ME BE!" Hermione chanted and chanted, the high decibel of her voice never wavering.

The other her immediately pressed her hands against her eyes and narrowed her eyes, shouting back at Hermione, "Shut up! _Shut up!_ This isn't going to get you anywhere!"

Hermione began shouting and yelling and commanding her to go away, but it was to no avail. The other Hermione simply waited, still covering her ears as she watched the last few frames fall to the floor.

Then, suddenly unable to take it, the other Hermione marched towards Hermione and gave her a tight slap on the cheek.

The real Hermione took a step backwards out of shock and indignation, clutching her throbbing cheek with her left hand. The nerve!

"Why, you little -" she regained her footing and took a resolute step forward to -

_SLAP!_

This time, it was the other Hermione who clutched her left cheek in outrage.

And, in the blur of a moment, they were engaged in a tussle. In a flurry of entangled limbs and shouts, they scratched and bit and slapped and clawed at each other.

"This," Hermione said, accentuating her word with a smack, "Is. My. Life! You bitch!"

"Oh, do shut up!" The other her retorted and kicked her in the gut, effectively throwing Hermione off-guard and off her.

Hermione was on the floor, clutching her throbbing stomach as the other Hermione tried to stand on one leg, her other one currently out of service after Hermione violently stepped on it.

The other Hermione wiped her mouth and nose, as trails of blood began to trickle down slowly.

"I'm a mess," she said, "Now why don't you fucking go away. I need to clean up, and I have to work tonight."

"Make," Hermione gasped out, "Me."

The other Hermione was in the midst of fixing up her ponytail before she glared daggers at Hermione.

"Fine. I will."

Suddenly, an unknown force lifted her up and began to push her towards the door.

She tried to fight it but she was much too weak and the force was much too great for her to fight against.

The large, black-and-red door opened and the force kicked her out.  
>The last thing she heard was a sing-song-y "Ta-ta!" before the door shut in her face.<p>

She got up on her feet as soon as possible, ignoring the throbbing everywhere on her body and tried to twist the doorknob.

It wouldn't budge, and mere seconds later, barricades appeared outside the door, almost obscuring it completely from view.

"NO!"

… _"And when I count backwards from ten to one, you will wake up and forget that any of this happened, and you will be free," _came the ghostly voice of Au Kar Mun.

"What? No!" Hermione yelled in the hallways, responding to the voice.

_"You will progressively awaken. Ten … nine … eight … seven …"_

Hermione shut her eyes and forcefully pushed herself back to reality. It felt as if she was swimming to the surface of the ocean, and the more she pushed, the harder it got.

Everything hurt, and everything throbbed. But she just … needed … to –

Hermione's eyes flew open, and she saw the familiar ceiling of the Chinese antique lot.

"Six … oh, that was sooner than I expected," Au Kar Mun exclaimed, bringing her hand to her chest as she regarded Hermione with a concerned expression. "I trust that everything went well?"

Hermione moved to a sitting position and stared at her skirt for long moments, her expression hard. She ignored Au Kar Mun's comments and questions resolutely.

"Well, whenever you're ready. I'll make more tea," Au Kar Mun jumped up from her seat and clapped her hands.

"There is no need," Hermione said in an eerily quiet voice, "It didn't work."

Au Kar Mun watched her. "It didn't?"

Hermione blinked once, and that seemed to have snapped her out of her reverie. She immediately began gathering her things – her gloves, her scarf and stood up, still not looking at Au Kar Mun.

"I need to go. I …" Hermione bit back a sob. "Thanks so much for your help. It was worth the try."

"But, Hermione!" Au Kar Mun protested.

"No!" she shouted, and Au Kar Mun jumped a little. Hermione's features immediately softened and she sighed, looking at Au Kar Mun dead in the eye. She began softly, "I'm sorry, Au Kar Mun. I really appreciate your time and the effort but … it didn't work. I tried. I just have to find another way."

Without waiting for an acknowledgement or advice, Hermione put on her scarf and stormed out of the place.

* * *

><p>Malfoy had not contacted her since that day last week, and that somehow made it easier for Hermione to write her goodbye letter:<p>

_Dear Draco,_

_I went to see your hypnotherapist and sad to say, things didn't work out. I'm afraid that also means that we both won't work out as well. Not until I figure out how to get rid of it completely._

_Until then, have a nice life._

_Best regards and Happy Christmas,_

_Hermione._

…

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Utterly devastated to hear that your session with Au Kar Mun wasn't fruitful in the least bit. _

_But don't you dare end things now, we will talk soon. I'll have to visit my mother in Nice for the holidays, but I've attached your gift with this letter. Don't open until Christmas, and I will see you very soon. We need to talk. Be back after Christmas._

_All my love and Merry Christmas to you too,_

_Draco._

* * *

><p>It was, by far, the worst Christmas Hermione had ever had.<p>

There were so many happy people, and all of them were drinking and dancing at The Burrow. All except for Hermione.

She plastered on a fake smile and rehearsed a sickeningly cheery laugh, but she knew better. She was worse for wear and she had purple circles under her eyes. Harry and Ron shot her concerned looks every now and then, but she smiled and shook her head every time they did, reassuring them that she was indeed fine and yes, she was enjoying herself.

She missed Draco, and it pained her that she wouldn't be able to see him for a very long time – forever, if she didn't cure herself. She thought of the gift he'd sent her – a first edition of a book she'd always been looking for – and felt even more crushed.

Glancing at her watch, she counted. Only seven more hours until she could take her leave. Then, she'd take a sleeping pill and sleep until the day after.

* * *

><p>"Granger! Happy Christmas!" Pearson laughed mirthfully as he lit his cigar, feet thrown on top of the desk, "Too many Christmas parties, eh? You look like shit!"<p>

"Takes one to know one, I suppose," the other Hermione threw herself onto the chair and folded her hands. "Any new assignments?"

"Well, there was a new one today. Quite high-profiled and I am not going to ask you to do it," Pearson said, face suddenly serious.

"Why not?" she rubbed her temples and sighed deeply.

"Because you told me it isn't something you would do."

"Which is?" she looked up at him tiredly.

"It's … an assassination job," Pearson answered. "But I've got Smith to do it. He's on it as we speak – about to go scout the residence. Word is that the owner will only be back tomorrow."

"Ah, I see," Hermione stood up and stretched, "If there's nothing for me, guess I'll be going."

She made a mental note to probably rob other people tonight, if that gave her something to do. The poor deserved some joy too this Christmas, and she was going to be their personal Santa Claus.

The warehouse door slid open and Smith emerged, and he sent her a prompt smile. Hermione merely looked at him in a bored sort of way before she turned towards Pearson.

"Mind if steal some of your vodka before I leave?" Hermione asked, but didn't bother waiting for an answer as she grabbed a glass and poured the clear liquid before downing it whole.

Pearson and Smith seemed to be deep in discussion, both paying no mind to Hermione.

"I'm leaving," she announced and began to pull her wand out of its holster.

"Right, right," Pearson answered, "Just busy talking about the Malfoy assassination job with Smith before I turn in for the night. See you around, Granger."

Hermione's blood went cold, her body rigid. Did she hear that right?

"Who?"

"Malfoy. Someone paid us a truckload of money to have him killed," Smith shrugged. "I'm doing it."

_"Who?"_ Hermione asked again, eyes narrowing.

"Draco Malfoy. You know, heir to the Malfoy fortune, Mind Healer at St. Caterina's? You stole from him once. Some war-scarred man wants him dead. Revenge for his family, you know how it goes."

**DUN DUN DUN!**

**TBC!  
>Read and review!<strong>

P/S down with a cold, so hopefully you will forgive the errors and grammar mistakes!


	6. Chapter 6

Her first instinct was to march up to Smith, throw him against the wall, take out the knife hidden in her boot and slit his throat.

She struggled to school her expression as she literally saw nothing but red and felt her blood boiling. Every inch of her was tense, and she squeezed her hands so hard she wouldn't be surprised if her nails punctured her palms and left blood running all over her fingers.

"What's the matter, Granger?" Smith asked with a frown, noticing Hermione's change in demeanour. "You look … constipated."

Hermione shook her head and counted to three desperately. The urge to protect overcame her, as was the urge to kill – for the first time ever. Never before she felt the need to off someone, she had urges to hurt but that was just for play. It was nothing serious and nothing truly dangerous, but this … this was something else.

If they touched even a single blond strand on her precious Draco's head …

"I'm fine. Where are they planning to assassinate him?" she asked, voice shaking with restraint.

"Well, initially, at his home," Smith answered, as he looked over some blueprints – of Draco's house, no doubt. "Now, word is that I am to Stun him and transport him to another location, for the person who hired us to kill personally."

Hermione's head throbbed something fierce. Her wand hand was twitching and she had half a mind to just Avada Kedavra them both. Still, that didn't mean Draco was safe from whoever that wanted to kill him in the first place.

Wit, strategy. Yes.

"And, might I join you in this quest?" Hermione flipped her straight ponytail off her shoulder glibly, and made sure that her body language was the epitome of superciliousness.

"Back off, Granger, this is my mission," Smith retorted, eyes narrowing as he rolled up the blueprint, supposedly to keep it away from her sight.

"Oh, please, Smith. All three of us know that I know the Malfoy residence best, having been there before," Hermione shrugged.

Pearson said nothing; he simply watched them both argue.

"No. This is my mission, my money. Don't think I'll let you in on this and have you take half of my pay," Smith shook his head resolutely.

"It's not the money I'm after, Smith. And I'm absolutely confident that your pay for this mission is laughable," she looked pointedly at Smith, and held up her hand before he could snap back; "You can have the entire pay. You see, there is something in the Malfoy residence that I truly desire."

_Draco, obviously._

"And I am," she added, pausing to choose the right words, "Merely taking what I want. You can do your job without any distractions. I will only follow you to the mansion. No more, no less."

"Granger, I must insist -"

"It's fine, you may go with him," Pearson interjected, clearly frustrated with Smith's obstinacy. "She will help you break in, Smith. But Granger, just like you promised, you will abandon him upon arrival at the mansion."

"Yes, yes, yes," Hermione rolled her eyes and waved her hands dismissively, as if cutting off and overbearing father. "Now Smith, what time do you leave tomorrow?"

She knew how to handle this. She'd follow Smith to the mansion and having been there too many times, she'd be able to get in quickly and find Draco, take him away and come back moments before Smith even gets to his bedroom. And then she'd easily tell him that Draco was nowhere to be seen and that the house was empty. They could always worry about that person who wanted Draco dead later. For now, Draco was most important. She can't be fucked about anything else.

"Around one a.m. Break in, find him, Stun him and Apparate him to the location. Easy really."

"Where to?" Hermione asked, a bit too quickly.

"That's none of your concern."

"I was simply asking, just in case you run into a bit of a trouble and require assistance," Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"I won't," Smith glared at her, grabbed the blueprints and Disapparated while still maintaining eye contact.

And then there was silence before Pearson spoke up.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing," Hermione said casually, as she turned around to grab her things.

"You're acting rather unusual today. Is everything alright?"

"I hope," Hermione muttered and as the confident, arrogant one with the laissez-faire attitude, she gulped in fear.

She Disapparated home and for the first time ever, she was unsure of herself. With shaky hands, she wrote a message for Draco and sent it off with an owl.

And then, she walked heavily to the bed as a million thoughts and images of the massacred body and lifeless grey eyes of Draco flashed before her eyes. She was too tired, and her mind was much too cluttered to think.

Hopefully, the owl could locate Draco and … and …

And then she was about to fall asleep. Just as she was at the precipice of slumber, her eyes shot open.

No.

She cannot afford to fall asleep.

If she fell asleep, that means the real Hermione will take over – clueless, heavy-handed and then she'd take credit for saving Draco even though the other Hermione desired Draco more than, well, anything.

No. This was her Draco, and she was going to save him. And then, she was going to completely take over this body and have him all to herself. She can and she _will_. And so, she got up, walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge and drank a bunch of Muggle things that were called "Red Bull".

The more alert she got, the more she could concentrate on containing the real Hermione …

* * *

><p>In another dimension, a dimension that was filled with nothing but darkness, the real Hermione awoke.<p>

She'd never been here before, that was she first thing she knew.

When the other her took over, she was always asleep, even in her mind. Never before had she woken up mid-slumber while the other one went about her shift.

It was far too dark and far too quiet, too quiet until she could hear herself breathe. Getting up on her feet, she spread her arms in front of her and walked – hopefully for a wall or something – something that would clue her in on where she was.

Nothing.

Something was off.

"Hello?" she called out.

It echoed, for miles and miles, she surmised because it never seemed to stop. This wasn't even that familiar mind-corridor with doors. This was nothing.

"_HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" _she cried out again, her breath quickening out of fear, frustration and worry. Where the fuck was she? "HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Again, and again, it echoed. Reaching nowhere.

She ran and ran, screaming for someone, anyone.

"HELLO? PLEASE! ANYBODY?!" she shouted and then stopped running, pulling at her hair. "SOMEBODY!"

"_Yeowch, hush now, will you? You're going to make me deaf."_

That voice was unmistakable – her own. But it was done in another tone – a dark, playful one.

"YOU! Where am I? Why am I here?" Hermione shouted.

"_Right here," _the voice whispered right next to her and Hermione jumped a mile out of fright.

Taking a couple of steps backwards, she glared at the other Hermione that abruptly and mysterious materialized right in front of her.

It was like Hermione was looking at the mirror – only to see that it wasn't her true reflection, for the reflection had pin-straight hair and a devious look on her face. The real Hermione also had a casual outfit on – jeans, a jumper and was barefoot, while the other one was dressed in all black leather with boots.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hermione hissed.

The other Hermione was examining her black nails, and she was looking dispassionately at Hermione when she decided to meet her gaze.

"I'm taking over," she simply said.

"Wha -? You can't do that," Hermione growled. "This is my body, my life!"

"Well, not anymore. As you can see, I already did. I am in charge," the other Hermione waved her right hand and the blackness immediately shifted into a scenery. Countryside, during sunset with dogs running around them. In the distance was a mountain, and Hermione could see the sun slowly disappearing into the mountains, painting the sky an orange-red colour.

Before Hermione could even wrap her _mind_ around the whole thing, the other Hermione waved her hand, the scenery altered once more, contorting and breaking – before turning into the view of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. And then, Mount Everest, and then finally, an island with clear blue skies and an equally clear blue ocean. Hermione could feel the wetness of the sand and water beneath her feet.

The other Hermione smiled cheekily at her and flipped her straight hair.

"Well, there you have it. I have successfully overthrown you," she grinned maliciously.

"But …" Hermione was speechless.

"How? Well, Draco Malfoy, for one. My need to have him and protect him was my drive and, safe to say, it was powerful enough to make me want take full control."

Hermione stared and stared. How was she supposed to react to this? She was powerless.

"And don't worry, I won't get rid of you immediately," the other Hermione shrugged. "I'll make it slow."

"_YOU!" _Hermione roared and reached out to throw her onto the floor and strangled her, but an invisible wall suddenly appeared right before her, knocking her back.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the other Hermione shook her head, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have something to do. I need to rescue my beloved. Ta ta. Shan't miss you."

The other Hermione then proceeded to blow her a kiss and with a coy smile, she disappeared without a sound.

And Hermione was stuck in this island, with loud, booming sounds coming from every direction.

She didn't have to look far or think hard about what was happening, because she could see it right before her. It started from the ocean.

Parts and pieces off it started crumbling into pieces, crashing into one another, and creating havoc as the entire island shook.

Hermione didn't wait. She knew what was going to happen, so she bolted. She ran as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her feet as she stepped on sharp shells and stones as she raced to the highest point of the island. If she got up there, she'd have the chance to at least try to get her mind back before these giant tsunami waves ate her whole.

She swallowed the bitter possibility that she might die here, disappear just like that when the waves get to her. She glanced back as she ran, and she saw mighty, mighty waves forming.

* * *

><p>In reality, the other Hermione washed her face and glanced in the mirror, examining her straight hair that she was about to pull back into a ponytail once more.<p>

There were dark, purple circles underneath her eyes but she brushed them off. She needed to save her Draco. And by the time she did that, she was certain that the real Hermione would have disappeared and she, would be the real Hermione from then on. And then, she'd have Draco.

Draco, who happened to not reply to her owl. The owl came back with the same letter, unopened – which meant that he was nowhere to be found. He was either currently out with his mother or on the way home. Either way, undetectable.

That also meant that she had no way of reaching him before he arrived, that she needed to be quick about going into his house, taking him away and fooling Smith. That was her only chance, and she wasn't going to mess it up.

Shoving her wand into the holster, she glanced at the clock. Midnight.

She Apparated.

* * *

><p>The real Hermione was positively roaring her way through the island.<p>

Her legs were exhausted, carrying her as fast as possible. She was almost at the top, and each time she glanced back, the rogue tidal waves were larger. There was more sand than water at this rate, as the water receded to create that massive wave that was going to destroy her, and that also made it seem as if the sand was infinite, and that she was going nowhere near her destination.

She fell, and her legs ached, but she pushed on.

Almost. There.

* * *

><p>"Granger, you're finally here," Pearson greeted, not looking up from his papers, "Afraid you're a bit late."<p>

"Late? Smith said one, and it's only two minutes past midnight," the other Hermione shook her head.

"That's what he said, but he left an hour ago. Probably got the job done already," Pearson shrugged.

The other Hermione's eyes widened and her jaw clenched.

"_What?" _she said irately, feeling anger beyond measure. Murderous. Fucking Smith.

Tears of exhaustion were running down Hermione's face, and she was positive that her legs would never work again, but she had reached the top.

She collapsed onto her bum, and gazed down as the waves gathered more and more water for a colossal wave that was going to eradicate her.

But she wasn't going to sit here in tears and accept her fate. She was going to fight.

This was her mind, her body.

She curled up into herself and shut her eyes, trying not to let the sound of the waves get to her. She shut off everything – except her thoughts, and willed.

* * *

><p>"<em>Draco? Draco!<em>" her voice echoed throughout the familiar mansion.

She'd scanned the residence about five times already, to find nobody around. Draco's bedroom was empty.

Fear was starting to take over. Worse still, she didn't know where Smith had taken him to.

Her head was throbbing, in sync with her heart.

* * *

><p>The real Hermione was rocking back and forth, arms cradling her head.<p>

She was gathering energy – both magic and mind.

She didn't know if it was enough, but she was going to try. She recollected every single memory from the earliest days she could remember, piecing them in chronological order to remind herself that she was truly Hermione Granger and that this was her, this was all her. This was her mind, this was her body, and nobody was going to take that away from her.

"I need you to fucking tell me where Smith is, Pearson," the other Hermione said as she returned to the warehouse. "Now."

"I'm afraid I -"

Hermione leapt at him, eyes a feral red and wand pressed against Pearson's throat.

"The only thing you should be afraid of is me," Hermione hissed, eyes flashing dangerously, "When I slice your body from head to toe, deliver them to your family – package by package. And then when it's all done, I might kill your entire family, too, just because I feel like it."

"G-Granger … what's – what's happened to you?" Pearson stammered, face pale and eyes filled with fear.

"I'll give you three fucking seconds to tell me where he is, or I will Avada Kedavra you right here, right now."

* * *

><p><em>Parents - dentists. Kindergarten, elementary school, first crush, Hogwarts. Harry. Ron. Ginny. Troll, Buckbeak, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Snape, Draco … Draco … Draco …<em>

_Voldemort. The War. Weakness … Pain … Anguish … Torment … Torture …_

_Escape …_

_Hiding behind another side …_

_No more … no more …_

* * *

><p>The other Hermione appeared smack dab in the middle of an abandoned prison, dark, dank and filthy.<p>

She was surrounded by a group of people innocent-looking enough to look like people bent on revenge, but the only thing she saw was someone bound to a chair, half-alive.

Draco.

His pristine, blond hair was marred by dirt and blood, and his right eye was bloodied and so were his nose and mouth. He had multiple lashings on his chest, painting his otherwise white shirt deep crimson.

He was breathing – shallowly, and it was as if he was hanging on to dear life. His wind lay broken, next to his foot.

"_Draco!" _she roared.

Somewhere in the corner of her eye, someone gasped and Disapparated. Smith.

But she can't be fucked about Smith right now. She'll chase him down some other day.

For now, she needed to take care of things here.

She gazed at the group of people in black robes – an elderly man and woman and two men and one woman, all standing with their wands raised.

Nobody knew who started attacking first, but the entire prison was filled with furious flashes of green, red and haphazard spells.

* * *

><p>The waves were impossible to escape from the looks of it, but Hermione was still rocking and chanting frantically.<p>

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

_Be gone!_

* * *

><p><em>Be gone!<em>

The other Hermione stopped mid-spell as she heard the words echo in her mind so loudly that she thought that the real Hermione was in the room with her. She looked around for a moment to make sure that she was the only Hermione around.

That had caught her off guard, and left her no time to deflect the slicing curse that came her way. She ran to the side, but the spell had caught her on her left arm, and sliced it open.

She cried out painfully as she felt a warm wetness and an indescribable stinging pain invade her entire being. She fell to the floor and groaned, but before the enemy could send another spell, she stunned him.

The robed figure fell to the floor, and Hermione wheezed in pain, letting go of her wand to clutch at her left arm. She needed to heal this … to … so much pain …

Pain, however, was immediately forgotten as she caught sight of Draco's lolling head. He was in and out of consciousness, having been tortured so badly.

"Draco …"

* * *

><p><em>This is mine. Mine. Mine. This is Hermione Granger's mind, body and soul, and I am Hermione Granger. <em>

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

_Leave. Leave. Leave. Disappear. _

* * *

><p><em>Leave. Leave. Leave. Disappear. Go.<em>

"What … whassat," the other Hermione whispered through her blurred vision. She looked around once more, only to find the unconscious group of people, herself and Draco the only ones there.

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

"Shut up!" she growled and got to her knees before making her way to the chair where Draco was bound.

_Leave. Leave. Leave. Disappear. Go._

"Stoppit," she hissed and brought her hand up to Draco's face and stroked, "Draco? Draco … Draco!"

Grey eyes opened, filled with pain, confusion and weariness and they blinked multiple times to focus.

"Hermione?" he croaked.

"Hey, baby," she grinned toothily, "Hey … I came to get you. You'll be fine."

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

"Agh! Shut up!" she yelled at the ceiling, as she fought for control over her own hands, which didn't want to listen at the moment. She tried her best and she finally got the ropes off Draco and the chair, effectively freeing his arms and legs.

"I'm going to get you out of here, we need to get you to a hospital," she whispered, combing Draco's hair back from his face.

_Leave. Leave. Leave. Disappear. Go._

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hermione tossed her head back and shouted as loud as she can, and the whole place echoed with her voice. "NO NO NO NO! Leave me be! I am in control!"

_Go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … go away … impostor … leave … never come back … get the hell out of my mind … leave … don't need you … be gone … _

_Leave. Leave. Leave. Disappear. Go._

* * *

><p>Hermione faced the waves determinedly.<p>

Shutting her eyes, concentrating hard, she held her head high.

The waves were coming down towards her now, and she was ready.

She wasn't scared. This was hers. Her mind. Her body.

She was in charge.

_This is mine._

_This is mine._

* * *

><p><em>This is mine.<em>

"NO! Fuck off, will you?!" she roared once more and went back to Draco, who was looking at her with a perplexed expression. "Let's go, Draco. Come on."

She bent down to pick Draco up, but that too, she had difficulty with as she had trouble commanding her limbs to move.

_This is mine._

She bent down to pick Draco up, but that too, she had difficulty with as she had trouble commanding her limbs to move.

_This is mine._

"_No,"_ she hissed through gritted teeth as she helped Draco up. His arms were around her now for support and Hermione struggled to move forward. They took baby steps towards her wand, slowly but surely …

_This is mine._

"Hermione …" Draco called out, suddenly alert.

"Yes, baby?"

_This is mine._

At the corner of her eyes, she saw a figure move behind Draco and there was a shout and a flash of green light.

"Draco! Behind you!"

"_AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

She immediately threw Draco to the side and met the curse dead on.

And then, all was green.

* * *

><p>The waves crashed on her and she felt the sheer magnitude of force.<p>

_Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine._

And then, nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Everything was black, but she could hear voices.

"And how are you feeling today, Mr Burns?" came a soft, breathy voice.

"Much better than yesterday, thanks," replied an equally soft but tired voice of an old man, "I still feel a bit of pain in my chest …"

"Ah yes, we'll get you something for that right away. If you need anything, do call us."

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she was gazing at white ceilings. Surprisingly alert, she tried to sit up.

"Oh, hello!" the voice called again and Hermione looked up. It was a sprightly, red-haired nurse, dressed in the St Mungo's uniform. Her tone was glad and excited. "You're finally awake!"

"How …" she began, and found that her voice was extremely scratchy and dry. As if it hadn't been used in a long time.

"You've been out for quite a while, you know," she explained, and began to perform examinations on Hermione. "You seem to be fine. Don't be surprised if you find that you cannot move your hands or arms yet. Mind exercises will be good to get your limbs out of entropy."

Entropy?

She looked down at herself, seeing that she was indeed dressed in a St Mungo's patient gown and that was unable to move neither her arms nor legs.

That must mean …

"How long was I out for?"

"Oh, four months."

Hermione gaped at the nurse.

"Yes, you were in a magical coma," she said and began leaning towards her. "If you don't mind, I'll have to check your eyes before I alert the Healer."

"No … no problem," Hermione answered as the nurse cast a slight Lumos on her wand and held it in front of Hermione's right eye and then left. Hermione's eyes automatically followed the light.

"Everything seems to be in order," she nodded and smiled warmly at Hermione. "Welcome back. I'll go get Healer Murray."

"Thanks," Hermione answered and moved her neck a little to the left.

She smiled at what she saw, for it was a table filled with balloons, cards and gifts. From Harry, Ron and the rest, she supposed. She tried to make out the writings on one of the cards that was wide open, and found that it was Harry's messy scrawl.

"Ah, yes, your friends come by every day," a masculine voice called, and she recognized the Healer's uniform on the man, "Especially your boyfriend. Never missed a day."

"Pardon?"

"Your boyfriend – the blond, pointy one," he grinned and waved his wand and began examining Hermione once more. "I heard he's a Mind Healer at St Caterina's. He was here every day, without fail. Funny how he chose today to show up to work. Now he's missed you waking up."

Hermione blushed a bright red and muttered, "He's not my boyfriend."

The Healer ignored her and continued, "Well, your vitals are perfectly alright. Now we just have to send you to the Mind department to make sure there isn't any damage there that we might have overlooked, and then to the physiotherapy department, to make sure you're good to go in no time."

With a clap, the Healer left.

"I've already alerted your friends and family. Is there anybody else I might have missed out on the list?" the nurse returned and handed her a file.

_Mr & Mrs Granger, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Ginevra Weasley, Draco Malfoy._

Her heart skipped a beat at the last name, and her face turned hot once more.

"No, that should be it, thanks," Hermione smiled.

* * *

><p>Meeting the rest was lovely, but it didn't have the same impact as when Draco Malfoy came bursting through the doors. He came a bit later, when everyone had left to let Hermione rest.<p>

His face was paler than usual, eyes greyer than usual and his hair was in a mess.

Hermione thought he had never looked more attractive. Her heart instantly warmed.

The first words he uttered were, "Hermione Granger, you fucking crazy woman", before he all but threw his arms around her and squeezed her tight.

* * *

><p>"So yes … you are absolutely free. Your mind is entirely your own. No other Hermione Grangers lurking in there," Draco explained as he sat next to her.<p>

They'd barely touched since he came in – except for that hug – otherwise, Draco was keeping his hands to himself, which was the total opposite for Hermione. She was itching to touch him, but she couldn't move at all.

"So … let me get this straight," Hermione said slowly, "When I – I mean, _she_, got hit by the curse, she died?"

"Yes. Technically, once you're hit by an Avada Kedavra, it's instant death. Everything will cease to function," Draco shut his eyes, as if trying to forget a bad memory, and then he smiled, "Fortunately for you though, your efforts to fight for your own mind pulled through. That amount of magic and mind energy sort of … brought you back. It's _the other _part of you that got killed."

"I see," Hermione frowned and gazed at her covers, "It's still too much to take in."

"Yes, I understand. Don't worry your mind too much for now. It still needs rest. Even more so that you need to go for physiotherapy soon," he nodded.

"Alright, Mr Mind Healer."

"You know … when the other you took the curse for me," he said as he took Hermione's limp hand. He sighed heavily. "I was furious. I thought I'd lost you."

Hermione grinned, "Well, people do crazy things when they're in love."

"So I've seen," Draco said, and was looking at her with an unreadable expression.

"I meant that she was crazy in love with you. Enough to take a curse for you," she retorted hastily.

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She bit her lip and rolled her eyes as Draco slowly removed his hand from hers.

"No, Draco, that wasn't what I meant," she said softly. Draco wasn't looking at her, but she continued anyway. "Really. That wasn't what I meant. I wasn't thinking. Bear with me while I regain my brain, alright? After all, I left with the impression that you only approached me because you wanted to _save_ me, not _date_ me."

"Granger, I wouldn't have stuck around you for four months even if you were unresponsive. Surely that must mean something," Draco challenged, eyebrow raised.

Hermione pursed her lips, seeing his point. Perhaps his intentions were genuine, and he truly cared for her enough to push her for treatment – for her own good, not because he needed another case.

"Fine."

"And you? Care to tell me what's on your mind?" his eyebrow was still raised, and his grey eyes were piercing.

"Well, let's just say that if I were able to move," she muttered, "I would have jumped you the second you came through that door."

Immediately, both Draco's eyebrows raised a little and a pleased smile graced his face.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: and of course, the delicious side dish that you all love. More on the sugar and less on the sin this time ;)

**Epilogue**

_**A few months later …**_

Draco was thrown against the door the second he stepped into the threshold. The flowers and chocolates fell to the floor.

"Whoa!" Draco immediately grabbed his wand to defend himself, but the familiar smell of oranges invaded his senses.

"Hermione?" he called out warily.

"Yes?" she answered breathily, voice completely hidden in the dark.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to ambush you. I was planning to toss you up against the wall and have my way with you," Hermione answered, voice shaking.

"My, my, my. How lascivious," Draco clucked his tongue and smirked, "You remind me of someone I knew."

"I … I know," came the quiet reply and a heavy sigh.

"What? What's wrong?"

Draco took out his wand and whispered a spell to light up the whole of Hermione's house.

"No, don't!" Hermione ran for the sofa, grabbing a shawl to cover up her otherwise naked body. She wrapped the stray red shawl around herself and tried to hold herself together.

Draco's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline.

"Why … why are you naked?" he asked.

Hermione's face turned as red as a telephone box and she remained quiet.

"Hermione?" Draco called out cautiously.

"I can't do it!" she threw a hand up in the air, surrendering. Her face was the epitome of embarrassment and defeat and Draco was confused.

"Do what, exactly?"

"This!" she gestured between the both of them, "I can't bring myself to do it!"

Draco's eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms.

"What do you mean? You can't bring yourself to date me anymore?"

"No, not that, Draco," she murmured.

Draco was impatient, as he started to tap his foot.

"It's been months, and I realize that I'm too shy," Hermione blurted, "I can't be as forward as you and I will die of embarrassment before I even initiate anything between us. And I thought today, for a change, instead of going for one of our dates where I would feel like a failure at the end, I would maybe … switch it up a bit. Try a different strategy – be a little bold and … thought that today would be the day that we get … intimate – oh Merlin, I can't even fucking say the word!" she tossed both hands up into the air and then into her bushy hair, completely lost and a mess.

Draco's smile was slow, and fond.

"And you thought you'd take your cues from someone we both are glad is gone? Someone I completely loathed and found repulsive, by the way?"

Hermione looked up at him with shining eyes and thinned lips.

"You're so very wrong, Hermione Granger," Draco informed her, marched up to her, grabbed her face and kissed her hard.

"Don't try to be somebody else," Draco whispered, bumping noses with her, "I prefer this version of Hermione Granger so much more."

"Really?" Hermione asked, eyes open and so honest.

"Yes, I like the fact that … this Hermione Granger would pretend to bump knees or hands with me during dinners, when she just wants me to read her mind and hold her hands," Draco pushed a curl behind her ear and kissed her pulse point.

"And then … she'd delay my leaving every time we say goodnight because again, she wants me to read her mind and kiss her goodnight when I don't," Draco said and kissed the other side of her neck, "Which is part of my scheme, by the way."

"Arse," Hermione muttered, but her eyes shut in bliss.

"Too many shameless and bold girls out there, and frankly, I'm tired of them. I want a shy, sweet Hermione Granger – who sometimes, surprises me with her willfulness and guts. And I especially like the fact that said willfulness and guts will dissipate around me. It flatters me."

"Yes, and we all know that we all exist to flatter you," Hermione rolled her eyes.

Draco ignored her.

"And I like …" he murmured, his hands caressing her sides through the shawl that barely covered anything, "A Hermione Granger that would turn red – as red as this shawl – when I take this off," he tugged at the shawl and with Hermione's flimsy wrapping, it fell apart at the slightest pressure and Hermione was naked as the day she was born, bared for Draco Malfoy to see.

True enough, Hermione did turn red – redder, maybe and she stood there, not knowing what to do.

"I like this clueless Hermione Granger who thinks so much about messing up or ruining the mood or what to do. It shows that she cares enough about what I think of her," Draco smiled and kissed her collarbone, hands caressing her bare hips, "That's adorable."

His hands wandered lower and lower and Hermione threw her arms around his shoulders as she hummed in surprise.

"I like a Hermione Granger that wants me so much that she doesn't know what to do," he grinned and his fingers slipped between her legs and started stroking.

Draco kissed her sweetly for long moments while stroking, and then with a sudden bout of strength, he carried her towards her dining table, used an arm to throw everything else onto the floor and placed Hermione on top of the table. The plates and tea cups landed on the floor with deafening crashes but they both paid no mind to them.

He pressed against her, crushing her nicely between the table and his own body.

"And I like the Hermione Granger that's with me right now," he confessed, staring into her chocolate eyes. "I truly do."

Hermione smiled and stroked his hair.

"Even my psychotic bits?"

"Even your psychotic bits," Draco nodded fervently.

Hermione began undressing Draco and they both learned each others' bodies slowly. Savouring, searching and worshipping.

In the throes of passion and blinding pleasure and an inundation of emotion, Hermione blurted, "You may like me, but I think I love you already."

"Yeah?" Draco laughed a little as he continued to move his hips in a way that made Hermione want to lose everything. "There's that sudden brazenness, but I think I love you too. We drive each other crazy, Hermione. I think that's love."

Hermione agreed, and they held each other the whole night.

So they say love is patient, love is kind, love is slowly losing your mind.

And Hermione's been there, but this type of craziness was so much better.

**FIN.**

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**Happy New Year!  
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